


It's Getting Hot in Here

by nvaleintern



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adultery, Angst, Bad Puns, Blow Jobs, Dating, Dirty Talk, Fire Alarm AU, Fluff and Smut, Homophobia, Hospital, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Meet-Cute, Police Officer Dean, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nvaleintern/pseuds/nvaleintern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who would've guessed a fire alarm at 3 in the morning could lead to so many things?</p><p> <br/>***** Tags/Rating will be updated as I go along *****</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Take Off All Your Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need a AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos on a fic you liked! Enjoy!

Great. Dean had hoped he'd at least get some rest tonight but somebody _had_ to turn on the fire alarm. Not that that's a bad thing. At least a hundred worse things than that popped into Dean's head, burning to death being definitely high up on the list. But the damn thing had a malfunction every other month now and Dean had to admit he had gotten a bit desensitized, so it took him a while before he fully comprehended what just woke him up.

Then he smelled the smoke slowly creeping through the door crack, signalizing that this time wasn't a false alarm. He quickly threw on the first best things he found lying next to the bed that weren't his uniform – some sweats, a shirt he grabbed from the drawer and a jacket. Hurriedly, he made his way down the hallway, banging on the other doors and stopping now and then to ask the other sleep-deprived and slightly annoyed occupants if they needed any help. Most declined politely, pushing their way to the stair case, but Mrs. Fedrowitz stopped Dean, asking him if he could help her overweight Golden Retriever, Gunther, down the stairs. She insisted Dean carry him: “He can't _possibly_ walk alone. The poor thing is _way_ too scared.” For a second there Dean wanted to kick himself for even asking, but the old lady had helped him out a couple of times now, and always cared to bring him a piece of her delicious apple pie over, so Dean figured he owed her a favor.

The dog weighed over hundred pounds, and Dean almost tripped twice, but Gunther helped calm Dean's anxiety. All of the noise, the chocking smell of smoke and the forced “we're trying not to panic even though we're clearly panicking” air brought back some memories. Ones he tried to bury for quite some time now, even though his therapist advised him to confront them, less they become triggers for his PTSD. Every single step felt like another stone lifted from Dean's back. At this point he was squeezing himself through the crowd, his only focus on Gunther's (literal) puppy eyes. Something about the dog's presence made him feel at peace.

The situation looked even more alarming from the outside than it felt to Dean when he was inside the building. From the looks of it, the fire must've started only two floors above his, and spread through the top of the building. Most of it was already swallowed by flames. It was evident the firefighters had their problems in extinguishing the fire. Dean swallowed hard, praying to God- or anyone, anything that was listening, that the people made it out before anyone was seriously hurt.

Dean recognized a few familiar faces sitting in ambulances, oxygen masks covering their faces as they were being attended to by EMT's. There was Julia, Dean's barista from his favorite local coffee shop. From what Dean remembered she was living on the floor the fire started at. If she made it out, others probably were okay as well.

Dean put Gunther down, much to the dogs dismay. He kept whining and rubbing his head on the man's leg. Dean sat down on the stoop, his hand running through the dog's fur. “It's gonna be alright, Gunther. Everyone's fine,” Dean whispered, not really sure if to reassure the dog or himself.

He was scanning the crowds of people, glimmering in the copped glow of the flames. Where was Mrs. Fedrowitz? The old lady was no-where to be seen, but Dean was sure she was fine. Had to be.

Dean was about to stand up and look around for her on the other side of the building, but his eyes got caught on someone, though. A man was standing a few feet away from a group of bystanders – and it being 3 in the morning those bystanders were mostly drunkards or people coming/going to work their night shifts. The strange thing that caught Dean's attention wasn't even the fact that the man stood there wearing next to nothing but dark-red boxer briefs. It was how confident and nonchalant he looked doing it. As if it weren't late autumn in the wee hours, and cold even for someone who wore kind of warm clothes.

Dean just couldn't take his eyes off the guy. He felt bad for staring, but the dark hair, the man's chest, his fairly nice butt – it was hard not to notice them.

What Dean also noticed, though, was how cold the man actually was. He was basically shaking. Dean decided to walk up to the man. Maybe give him his jacket? He didn't have a plan, per se, but he felt bad for the stranger and as a good, American citizen he was always ready to offer help. Totally no ulterior motives there. Okay, maybe a little bit.

Gunther followed his every step, nudging Dean forward every time he took a slow step.

“You know, 'Abercrombie & Fitch' is actually that way,” Dean joked, pointing behind him.

Jokes usually break the ice, right? And it certainly didn't hurt if he was a little flirty. The man just tilted his head a bit to the left, obviously confused. “I'm Dean,” he stretched his hand out. The man shook it hesitantly. “I couldn't help but notice you standing here. You must be freezing.”

That got a laugh out of him. _Wasn't a joke but hey, he laughed._ “So, here.” Dean took off his black hoodie and gave it to the guy. He put it on, zipping it up quickly. "I'm Castiel."

Whoa. Castiel's voice did something to Dean's that not even Castiel's body was able to. _Castiel._

"So, uh, do you live here, too?"

"Nope, I just like standing around on the street, half-naked.”

“With your body, who wouldn't.” Dean surprised himself. He never flirted with a guy before. At least not as obviously as he was doing now.

"Nice shirt, by the way," Cas quipped.

Out of all the shirt's Dean could grab in a hurry, this was one of the worst (and by worst he meant the most asshole-ish) shirt he owns. White letters on a black shirt: ' I ♥ BJ'.

 _Nice one Winchester._ Dean made a mental note to kick Bobby's ass for probably the worst Christmas present ever. "Well, at least I had the decency to even put on ashirt."

Castiel laughed at that too, and Dean couldn't help but notice the way his nose crinkled up slightly. "And to answer your question Dean, yes I do. Third floor, 104."

They both looked at the building behind them. The fire was almost out now, which meant they were allowed to go back in soon. “Hey, I live in the one next to yours,” Dean said, suddenly realizing what that meant. His heart sunk and he hoped it was too dark for Cas to see the flush of his cheeks. _Oh crap. Oh god, oh god, oh god._ Castiel's apartment was left or right from Dean's, no matter which side though, it couldn't be good. All those times Dean had people over, all the times he was moaning, screaming and banging against the walls, Castiel probably _heard that_.

Castiel understood Dean's sudden silence and put a hand on his shoulder: “Don't worry. You're way too cute to file a noise complaint against.” And just like that he left Dean to it, and it took all of Dean's self-control not to jump up in ecstasy. Castiel _flirted back._ Tonight was officially the perfect example of making the best out of a crappy situation. Dean's apartment almost burned down _but_ he flirted with his hot next-door neighbor Castiel. “Gunther, tonight is our night,” he whispered, scratching the dog behind his ear.

Dean's excitement didn't last long, though. On his way back to the building he saw someone being rolled onto a gurney and zipped in a body bag. The ambulance door closed and it drove away. Mrs. Fedrowitz died on her way down.

 


	2. Live a Little, Drink a Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't really know where this is going. Dean doesn't either.

Gunther was driving everyone mad with his whining. It's been two weeks since Mrs. Fedrowitz' funeral but the dog just kept on barking, barely eating. Who could blame him, though. That old lady was his world and now that she was gone he was all alone. Dean knew that feeling all too well, which is probably why he decided to adopt him. Can you even 'adopt' dogs? Either way, he took him with to Bobby's and it just stayed that way.

Supposedly, the fire did more damage than first expected and it was decided that moving back into the building would put people's lives at risk and everyone was advised to move out or at least relocate for the time being.

Dean suspected it was the universe's way of saying: Fuck you Dean Winchester, you're not gonna get lucky tonight. He didnt't get to see his new mysterious, semi-naked aquaintence again that night again, or any night, actually. The guy left before Dean even started packing. Huh. At least Dean's got a new dog now, so that's one silver lining.

“Who's a good boy? _Who's a good boy?_ ”

“Dammit Jo, now _I_ don't even know who the good boy is.”

“You're just jealous it's not you,” she smirked. _Oh, how well she knew Dean._

After the whole fire thing Dean had to find a new place, so moving in with Bobby felt like the natural thing to do. The old man's place was pretty spacious, and Ellen's bar was only a short walk away, which gave Dean something to fill his Friday nights with. Sure, the city was nice but sometimes it's good to get away from it for a bit, especially if you're working spending every single minute on the job there.

Dean had hoped to get a bit of relaxation time, reconnect with nature and what-not, only to find out Ellen Harvelle and Jo moved in with Bobby. They went steady for a while now but a heads up would've been nice. Dean might've reconsidered his decision. Not that he doesn't like them. It's just that he wasn't used to having a full house anymore and his life was confusing enough without his and Jo's past together. Strangely enough, Dean got used to it pretty fast, and Jo didn't bother him at all. In fact, they were pretty buddy-buddy with each other lately.

“Damn right I'm not.”

Jo only rolled her eyes at that – her go to response to half the stuff Dean said. “Have you called Sam back yet?”

Sam? He didn't hear from his little brother in over a month now. Dean didn't even know Sam was back in town already. “No. When did he call?”  
“Oops. Yeah, he said he wanted to meet up at Bobby's. He's got a job here. Probably wants your help.”

“Did he say when?”

“From what I've heard over the phone he's already there.”

*

Dean loves Sammy very much, he does. He was just... distracted over the last couple of weeks. Besides, it would be great to not be the only one putting effort into staying in touch with his _brother_ for once in a while. In the end, Sam's the one who gets to travel all over the state, doing his event-planning thing, meeting all kinds of people, while Dean's stuck in Seattle. Not that it's a bad thing. Definitely not boring. Maybe just a bit unfair. Either way, it's not Dean's fault they're not as closed as they used to be.

Sam was behind the counter, pouring a tanned blonde a shot, and Dean would be damned if he didn't feel a pang of nostalgia. They used to help out Bobby all the time after they moved in with him. Or at least every time Bobby knew it was safe enough for him to allow them. In hindsight, allowing them to handle the booze probably wasn't such a good idea (especially not that one night Dean invited a bunch of girls from the cheer squad over which lead to the thing they referred to as the 'Tequilla Incident'.)

“Sammy, how you been?”

Sam smiled, going in for a hug over the wooden tabletop. “Dean! Catch any bad guys today?”

“Heh, I took a few days off work, actually.”

Sam cocked his head to the side, his expression suddenly worried.

“Nah, it's nothing. I just had to take care of my dog.”

“You have a dog?”, he sounded amused.

Bobby grunted. “Boy brought himself a pup home and now it's keepin everyone up,”

“Bobby I _told_ you I just couldn't give him away like that. Besides, me living at your place is a temporary thing, I'll move out as soon as something clears up.”

Dean hated lying to Bobby. Well, technically it was only a white lie. He _did_ want to move out, he just hadn't really been looking for any new apartments. Living at Bobby's just felt too much like old times, and now that Sam's hopefully staying there for a while as well, Dean couldn't leave just yet.

“So, what's up Sammy? Jo told me you have a job in town?”

Sam grabbed a towel and wiped his wet hands on it. “Yeah, some family in the suburbs wants a bouncy house for their kids birthday and I figured since it's close to home I might as well do it myself,” he threw the towel on the counter. “But since I still have some other stuff to pick up I was wondering if you could drive over there to drop off some things and clear the details with the wife. You've always been better at that stuff.”

That's definitely not how Dean saw it, but a few days away from Gunther might actually be a good idea. The dog seemed to like Jo a lot more than Dean anyway. “Yeah okay. Why didn't you ask Benny, though?”

“That asshole bailed on me on our last two jobs, so I didn't even feel like calling him.”

At least someone hasn't changed at all then. “When do you want me to go?”  
“Today?” Sam stretched out the last syllable, sounding apologetic, “I would've given you a heads up but you never pick up.”

 _More like 'you never call'._ “Okay, is it at least in the truck already?”

*

Over the years of patrolling, driving around the city and occasionally going to the suburbs to break up a party or pay a lonely widow a visit, Dean got pretty good at guessing someone's wealth by the look of their house/apartment/freaking front yard, and from the looks of it, Novak's had money. Like, shit loads of money. Their backyard alone would fit three of those bouncy houses Sam brought with him. The wife was surprisingly young. Her blond hair was shoulder length but not nearly as bright as her daughter's, Claire. She was fairly nice, offered Dean something to drink, which he politely accepted and what's more important, she was _very_ patient with him. Sam forgot to give him any kind of instructions on how to install the bouncy house, and the additional pool that went with it. “So, uh, do you want it here?” Dean asked, pointing to free space next to an array of wooden tables that would fit three football teams.

“No, we thought it would go well there,” she pointed to the other side of the yard. _Why don't you just make me run around the house with that thing._ “Where you pointed will be the pony's for the kids.”

Dean gave his all not to judge and smiled through the pain of heaving the _way too heavy_ deflated house all by himself. “Is your husband out?” _Maybe he'll be home soon so he can help me carry this shit._

No answer. Dean had his back turned to Amelia so he didn't know if she didn't hear him or just chose to ignore the question. Instead he moved on: “So, how old is that little one gonna turn tomorrow?”

“Oh, Claire will be 12 tomorrow.”

Someone got pregnant young. Then again, so did their mother. “Cool. Doesn't that mean she's kind of too old for bouncy houses now?”

“Are we ever?”

She had a point. Dean decided Amelia Novak wasn't too bad after all. In fact, they got along pretty well and her joking – which sometimes came off as flirting? (though Dean really wasn't on his A game in that field ever since that weird incident with his former neighbour Cas) – was the only thing that made the act of pushing the stuff back and forth through the backyard somehow bearable. She even gave him a slice of pie to take home with. Cherry flavour.

“Thanks. Someone will come over tomorrow to inflate the house and the pool. When does the party start?”

She took out her phone, probably checking her calendar: “We sent out the invitations for 2 p.m. but you know those suburb moms, always so overzealous. Let's say 12.30?”

“Sounds good.”

She smiled at him, putting her hand on his arm “I'd appreciate it if you'd do it.”

Dean felt his face go warm so he just quickly shrugged it off, said something along the lines of “Yeah, ok, see you.” and ran out of that backyard way too quickly for it to look casual.

*

“Jo, I'm telling you, I don't _know_ what happened.” 

Dean was feeling sorry for himself. Amelia Novak wasn't the first woman he shot down in the past

couple of weeks. It just didn't feel right. He tried to get into it, walked up to some pretty brunette, only to back out a few sentences into the conversation. Awkward and stammering Dean was new. And Dean didn't like him.

Jo poured him another shot of tequila. “You think it might be because of the whole Cas thing?”

Yes, Dean was just as surprised when he found out Jo knew about Cas, but apparently he once drank a few too many and told her everything. It felt nice to have someone to talk to about this, though. For once, Drunk Dean did something right.

“I don't _know_ , maybe? I mean, I had hoped to see him again but ever since that night he just- Poof, “ he gestured with his hands “Gone. Vanished into thin air.”

“What did he look like again? Dark hair, piercing blue eyes, confident but somehow reserved?”  
“Wow, that is a pretty good description. Didn't think I was that coherent when we talked about him.”

Jo laughed. “Trust me, you weren't. He just sat down in the booth by the window.”

Dean sat up from his chair so quickly he almost fell down in the process – and the alcohol was only half the reason for it. “Oh god, it is him. What should I do?,” he stage-whispered to Jo.

“Just go over there, dude. Flirt a little.”

Sober Dean would run for the hills at the mere idea, Drunk Dean on the other hand...

“Hey, how you doing?”

Castiel looked up from the menu, and god _dammit_ those eyes again. Dean was pretty sure he could get lost in those eyes. “Fine? And you are- ?”

Ouch. That hurt. Castiel was pretty much the only thing Dean thought about for the past weeks but apparently the feeling wasn't mutual. Castiel must've noticed Dean's disappointment, because he hurriedly said: “Please don't feel bad. It's just I'm very forgetful and I meet a _lot_ of people during my job. Not being good with names doesn't help either.”

The squeaky voice at the back of Dean's head told him to back out but instead he just answered. “I'm Dean. The BJ's guy, remember?” _Seriously? That's the best I could come up with?_ “I-”

“Oh right, the guy that borrowed me his jacket. Thanks for that, by the way. I'd catch pneumonia if it weren't for you.”

That smile was too much for Dean. He had to sit down. “You still have that, if I might add.”

“Are you here often? I could just drop it off if you want to?”

Drunk Dean got an idea. And he was feeling bold. “How about we drive over to your place and I can take it home with me the next morning?”

At that, Castiel swallowed hard. He looked up at Dean, then down to Dean's lips, then up again. “I need to get drunk first.”  
Again, ouch. “So you're not the only one drunk, of course. Then I'd be taking advantage of you, wouldn't I?” Castiel grinned.

Dean looked over at Jo who was already walking over with a platter of shots. _How did she do that? It's like she's psychic or something._

She put it down on the table and winked at Dean. “This one's on me, boys.”

 _Technically on Bobby,_ Dean thought, but Jo was too much of a saint for him to bother her with technicalities right now.

Half an hour, and a dozen shots later, Castiel was pretty much as drunk as Dean, and even flirtier than the first time they met. He was playing footsies with Dean at the bar and nuzzled Dean's neck throughout the entire drive to his place, which ended up being an apartment only a few blocks away from their old building.

Dean's body was shaking with excitement the whole way up to the 7th floor. He couldn't believe he was just about to hook up with Castiel.

“Welcome to my h-” Dean didn't even let Castiel finish. He threw off his jacket and basically smashed his mouth against Cas' who stumbled back against the door, closing it behind them. The dark haired man moaned around Dean's tongue and _fuck_ that alone was enough to get Dean hard. He pulled the hem of his shirt over his head, dropping it next to the jacket.

Castiel's soft hands ran up Dean's sides, making him shiver. “Are you cold?”, murmured Cas, his lip brushing against Dean's.

“We can be cold together,” Dean smirked, taking off Castiel's shirt for him.

They stood there, both half naked, shaking in the hallway, not sure if from the cold or from the thrill of it all.

Their break was only short-lived though. Both were too needy and too drunk for it to go on like that and Castiel was the first to close the gap between them again. He sucked on Dean's neck, probably leaving a hickey or two on his way down to Dean's nipples, but in that moment all that mattered to Dean was Cas, and Cas alone, not some stupid bruises he'll probably have to explain to some people tomorrow.

A loud moan escaped Dean when Cas bit down on his nipple. He felt embarrassment that something so needy could even come out of him but Cas only winked at him. “Come on, definitely not the first time I hear that.” Right. Dean almost forgot that Cas lived next to him for who knows how long and has heard his fair share of who knows how many of Dean's sexcapades. Then again, it was kind of a turn on right now. “Did you ever jerk off to it?”

Cas chuckled. “What?”  
“You know, to me having sex with other people. Did you ever touch yourself while I did it?”

Castiel let himself fall back on the couch, propped up on one elbow, looking up at Dean who was now standing over him. He slowly unzipped his own pants and took out his dick. Dean felt his mouth water at the sight of it, surprised by the new feeling. He watched Castiel slowly running his hand over his erection, the precum glistening in the dim orange light of the city. “Do you mean like that? Of course I did, Dean. What did you expect? Who could resist?”

 _Fuck._ Dean really wanted that cock in his mouth. This instant. “Hearing you like that almost every night was sure driving me crazy. Sometimes I just wanted to go over there and be the one who gets those pretty sounds out of you.”

Dean was getting closer now, stumbling past his clothes and the wooden coffee table. “Why didn't you?,” he mumbled, dropping to his knees in front of Cas. _That will leave a bruise or two._

“What?”

“Why didn't you? Go over. Teach me a lesson.” Dean was between Cas' legs now, his hands running up the man's thighs. “Teach me.” His face was only inches from Castiel's cock. The other man could probably feel Dean's warm breath on him.

“Then come here.” Castiel was running his hands through Dean's short brown hair now, slowly guiding his head closer to his own dick. Dean's lips were touching it and he felt his breath hitch. _So fucking amazing,_ he thought. “Come on, Dean.” And Dean did. First, his tongue only touched the skin, then he grew bolder, licking up the sides, lapping up the precum. “You taste so good, Cas,” he whispered in a husky voice, “So fucking good.”

Dean kissed the head of Castiel's cock, the precum sticky against his bottom lip. Slowly he took in the whole length of Cas, inch after inch until the other man grew needy. He started pushing Dean's head down further along his dick. It took Dean everything not to gag or puke in the other man's lap. That would definitely ruin his chances of a second whatever this is by a 100%. He vaguely remembered reading somewhere that pressing down your left thumb really hard was supposed to lessen your gag reflex, so he tried that, and _thank you thank you thank you internet_ for not fucking up for once because it worked. Castiel could face-fuck Dean and Dean was actually able to enjoy it more. The huffs and grunts he got out of Cas were more than enough to get him over the edge but he didn't grab for his own dick just yet. He wanted Cas to do it. Not that he'd get a chance to say so, because Cas was coming. Dean did a thing with his tongue – totally on accident – but whatever it was it sure was good as hell because Cas was grunting and he was shaking, his grip on Dean's hair tightening as he shot his load in Dean's mouth.

“Come up here,” Cas commanded, out of breath, and Dean complied happily.

The dark haired man pulled him in for another kiss, tasting himself on Dean's tongue, lapping up his own cum from the corner of Dean's mouth.

In fact, the man was so skilled with his tongue, Dean didn't even realize that Castiel grabbed for his penis, or that he was jerking him off. He only felt the familiar surge of pleasure build up, and before he knew it he was gasping and moaning against Castiel's shoulder, biting the sensitive skin at Cas' collarbone.

Cas licked up the cum from Dean's chest and stomach, swallowing happily, and grinning at Dean like an idiot. “I figured it'd only be polite to return the favor.”

Dean snorted.

“Wanna grab a shower now?”

“Be there in a minute.”

Castiel kissed Dean as he stood up. He shook off his pants on the way to the bathroom, making sure Dean got a show out of it.

 _If every guy feels like that,_ Dean thought _I better say good-bi to heterosexuality, then._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need a AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos on a fic you liked! Enjoy!


	3. Deflating Castles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moring after ain't always great.

Waking up in a strangers apartment sure felt nice. Not finding said stranger _in_ the apartment when you wake up, not so much. Usually Dean might've gotten more angry at Cas but his head hurt way too much to think at all, that early in the morning. Or rather that early in the afternoon. Dean's phone said 1.34 P.M. It also said: “(12) Missed Calls; (32) Unread Messages” and “Only 10% battery, please re-charge”. Dean clicked all of those away. What he needed right now was a cup of coffee. And some pants. Where were his pants?

From what he can remember he still had them on when they were in the living room but he is almost certainly sure he didn't have them on in the shower so- Bingo! Bathroom floor.

He put them on, shrugged on a shirt, took back _his_ jacket, only to make sure he left his other jacket here. Just in case he'd need a reason to drop by again. There was even a sticky note for him on the door:

“ _Had a thing I needed to take care of. Sorry to run out on you like that. There's fresh coffee on the counter (at least it's fresh when you wake up before 2). Just make sure the door's closed when you leave. Don't want anyone to steal your clothes._

_Xoxo, Cas”_

 

That bastard. How can he be so hot and so cute at the same time. AND make good coffee. Definitely a keeper (though Dean had to admit, the coffee was cold).

On his way out he made sure the door was closed, then ran back to check twice. You can never be too sure, is what Mary always said.

This morni- afternoon was off to a good start. At least until Dean remembered to check the messages. More than half of them were from Sammy, and a few more from a number he didn't know.

“ _Dean, please don't forget to go over to Novak's. The birthday thing's important. See you there – 11.34a.m”_

“ _Had to take care of something. Won't make it. You take this one. Don't screw it up. - 11.42a.m”_

“ _Dean? Are u there yet? - 12.01p.m”_

Crap. Sammy will kill him.

“ _Dean??? - 12.32p.m”_

“ _? - 12.32p.m”_

“ _??? - 12.34p.m”_

“ _i will spam you until you pick tf up – 12.35p.m”_

“ _dean u had_ one _job – 12.46p.m”_

The rest was mostly some not so PG-13 phrases and loads of question marks. Then there were a few from the unknown number:

“ _Hey, Dean, right? It's Amelia Novak. We tried phoning you but you didn't pick up. I'm just writing to remind you about our appointment? See you in a few. - 12.15p.m”_

“ _Me again. You've been almost an hour late. I hope someone comes over soon. The party starts in an hour. - 12.58p.m.”_

“ _Okay, please come. Or at least send someone over. I hope you have a good explanation for your being late – 13.22p.m”_

Oh, he's so screwed. Luckily there was a taxi close to the building. The driver was blasting the new Adele album through the stereo, and mouthing to the lyrics pretty emotionally. Dean almost felt bad for knocking on the window and starling the poor old man. “Hey, are you on the clock?”

“Sure thing. Anyone who's not a friend of Über is a friend of mine.” _Yikes._

Dean rarely took normal taxi's anymore, but this was an emergency. The old dude took his time and Dean had to go through almost ten minutes of 'Hello' on repeat but eventually he arrived at the Novak house. From the looks of it the party hasn't started yet. “Hey, how much do I owe you?”

“40 bucks.”

Dean forgot how far the apartment was from the house, or actually, he didn't even think of it. _That's what you get for always being late to stuff._ “Hey, do you have gum? Or a mint or something?”

“Sure thing,” answered the driver and handed him a pack with weird brown lettering in a language Dean didn't recognize. At least it didn't taste too bad. “Take care, man.”

 

If Dean thought this day was on a downward spiral, the look Amelia Novak shot him when she opened the door only proved it. “Sheesh, what if it had been one of the guests?,” Dean joked , trying to ease the tension between them.

“I didn't need to worry about that because they're all _here_ already,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I'm sorry, I was held up at my other work this morning. They called me in because of someone I brought in last night.”

This seemed to calm her a little. “Really? What do you do?”

“Uh, I'm a cop, actually. Where's the pump I left yesterday?”

She showed him to the closet. “Oh, well. Thanks for keeping us safe then.”

“I'm just making sure they don't roam the streets. I'm not the one keeping them in.”

“Well that's my husbands job. He's a _lawyer,_ you know?” She made sure to emphasize the word lawyer. Dean wondered how often she said that sentence since they moved to the suburbs.

The backyard was unrecognizable. The tables from yesterday were now covered with white table cloth, there were colorful plates, _multiple_ cakes, cookies and other kinds of sweets that were sure to bring those kids caries or diabetes by the time they reached their twenties. And Amelia kept her promise. Two ponies were secured with a rope next to the fence, a stack of hay dumped next to them so they have something to eat. Whatever poor bastard had to clean _that_ mess up, Dean didn't want to know, but he was glad he as only responsible for the bouncy house. All he had to do was plug in the pump, press the right button and _voilá,_ the Kingdom of BounceTm rose in front of him. So did the pool.

Though Dean wasn't sure who this all was for. There weren't a lot of kids there. Most of the guests were moms, holding a cookie none of them cared to even bite into and glasses of what looked like orange juice but clearly wasn't. The suburbs sure were a weird thing. “So, Mrs. Novak, where's the birthday girl?”

“Oh she's not here. It's a _surprise,_ you know? Her daddy's took her to the mall this morning to pick out a present and when they get here, we're all gonna jump out and 'SURPRISE!'”

Dean hated surprises. But to each their own, he guessed. “Can I maybe plug in my phone somewhere while this things going?”

“Sure, just go straight and then left. There's a charger plugged in next to the kitchen counter.”

“Thanks,” he said, walking back inside, leaving her to it. Dean just couldn't wait to be out of this house. For some reason he just didn't feel comfortable there. Whatever white, rich dude bought this house for Amelia sure didn't know how to invest his money. If it were after Dean, he'd have much rather stayed in Cas' bed, and waited for him to get home so they can have a re-do of last night.

After plugging in his phone he made sure to text Sammy, telling him everything's fine lest his poor young brother will have a heart attack.

Then Dean wanted to text Cas, something dirty. Or witty. Or both. But he didn't even have the guys number. What a drag.

“If you want to, you can stay for cake.”

Dean jumped up. “Whoa, you scared me. Do you usually sneak up on people like that?”

Amelia laughed, giddily. “Only on handsome strangers,”

_Uh oh._

“I'm sorry I barked at you at the door. It's just so stressful. Handling it all alone, you know? Kids,” _Plural?_ “household, family. It gets boring, _lonely_. Especially when the husband's out all day.”

Amelia was getting uncomfortably close for Dean's liking and there was no way out or past her. “You know?”

“Uh, yeah?,” Dean wasn't sure what to do. He didn't feel very flirty at the moment. At least not with anyone but Cas. “Please, I'm just here to do my job, okay?” This must have come out harsher than Dean intended because next thing he knows the contents of Amelia's glass are in his face and she's storming out of the kitchen. _Someone's had a bit too much to drink._

He'd ask where the bathroom is but that would be more awkward than just walking through the house in hope he barges into the right room, so he decided to do the latter instead. The only rooms on the first floor were two bedrooms – one plastered with band posters and weird drawings, all signs of a prepubescent girl, not a girl you would order a bouncy-house and pony's for. The kitchen was almost as big as the living room. Who would even need all that space for? Dean figured it was probably impossible to find spoons in this house and decided all the drawers were there to confuse any stranger who tried to get himself a spoon. Or as a preventative measure against spoon thieves.

Dean didn't feel quite comfortable roaming through the house like that and sticking his nose into every room but she didn't give him any other choice so technically it was okay.

There were two more bedrooms upstairs. Only one side of the queen size wasn't made, so either the husband's not that into cleaning or she really _is_ alone most of the time. Finally, a bathroom.

Dean turned on the tap and splashed some cold water into his face. He didn't even have time to do that when he woke up.

He looked in the mirror. He seemed different than yesterday. Sure felt that way. Good different.

There are the two hickeys Cas left on his neck last night. Dean wasn't sure if Amelia didn't see them or if she decided not to see them when she made her advances.

Dean lingered a bit in the bathroom, checking on the size of the bouncy house through the small window. When he finally got back out into the backyard the bouncy house was all done and bounce-ready – as tested by some overzealous girls that couldn't wait for Dean to turn off the pump before jumping in excitedly.

Amelia was standing next to the pool, filling it with water, clearly avoiding Dean's gaze now, and laughing way too loudly at jokes that probably weren't even half as funny.

A car door was slammed shut right outside the house, and suddenly everyone went dead quiet. A second door was shut. Amelia put a finger to her lips to show the guests to stay quiet and get in position.

Dean didn't want to be stuck in that situation so instead of staying outside with all the others, he hurried back inside. From what Amy told him, Claire's dad was supposed to bring her in through the backyard door so he was safe from all festivities inside the house.

Only he wasn't, because apparently her dad forgot about that, and now Dean was standing in the middle of the hallway, blocking Claire's view of the backyard. Dean was right. She looked way older than nine. Dean knew he should move out of her way. People behind him were yelling “Surprise!” and the younger girls were already on their way back to the bouncy castle. Someone started singing 'Happy Birthday' and Claire was making her way past him into the yard, thanking her mum and the guests, calling to her dad to come see what Amelia's prepared, but the man was just as stuck in the moment as Dean was, and neither one could take his gaze off the other.

 _Fuck. Son of a bitch._ Dean couldn't believe this. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. Castiel was definitely _not_ standing right in front of him, keys and a gift bag in hand. How could he? He was supposed to run errands or do job stuff or- take his kid out so she doesn't notice the surprise party being prepared for her.

Dean didn't know what to do. He wasn't sure he knew how to move. Or how to breathe. Or what to say.

Finally, after what felt like a fucking eternity, Cas took the first step, and instinctively Dean took one back. He felt the stares at his back. People were starting to notice something was wrong. But, as always, there's Amelia Novak saving the situation, scooting past Dean and taking Cas by his hand – the same hand that was in Dean's hair last night – and dragging him into the backyard, her iron smile an impenetrable facade. Cas bumped into Dean and Dean flinched away – he _flinched_ away from the touch of the man he needed, _wanted_ only minutes before.

“Everybody, Cas _finally_ showed up! Took you long enough, honey,” Dean didn't even want to turn around. Didn't want to see him all couple-y and in love. Dean started to feel like he did in the burning building, his breath falling short. He needed to get out.

He ripped the phone from the charger and burst through the door, slamming it behind him, not sure if he was walking, or falling or everything at once.

 

*

“ _Dean, I need you to pick up the stuff from the Novak's – 6.33p.m”_

“ _Can't you do it, Sammy? I really don't want to go over there rn – 6.34p.m”_

“ _What happened? U know I'm not local rn, meeting took longer than expected. - 6.36p.m”_

“ _Crap. Can't u do it tmrrw? Or jo? - 6.37p.m”_

“ _U srsly want jo to walk that heavy shit to the truck? I need it loaded today so we can drive it over to a diff. location tmrrw. Srry dean. Talk later? In car rn. - 6.39p.m”_

 

Dean really didn't want to do this. At least not by himself.

 

“ _Jo, need u. pls come. 6.42p.m”_

 

*

Jo and Dean sure had their differences in the past. Some of those differences might or might not have ended up with one of them pinned under the other. She was there for him when his parents died, she's helped him through Sammy's recovery and now she offered a shoulder to sulk on during this fresh hell.

“So he's- married?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wow. Asshole. He should've at least given you a heads up.”

Dean scoffed.

“What? Then you'd at least have the decision to become a homewrecker. Now you are one, if you want to or not. And trust me, I'd go over there and pick up that bouncy house all by myself if I could, but Sammy told me it weighs a butt load and my doctor told me if I pick up too heavy stuff too soon I'll end up back on that table before I can say 'disc prolapse'.”

“I just hope he's not there.”

“It's his kid's birthday. Bet your ass he's there.”

“Way to cheer a sucker up, Jo. You do the talking, though.”

Going back even the bell sounded obnoxious to Dean now, and he couldn't help but mimic it in an annoying voice. To their surprise, it was Claire who opened the door for them. She didn't seem particularly happy. Actually, she seemed pretty indifferent about the whole thing.

“Aren't you the guy that stormed out of our house earlier?”

Dean was about to answer but Jo butted in: “Hey, I'm Jo! That's Dean,” she thumbed to Dean, “We're here to pick up that bouncy castle that's in your back yard.”

“Nah,” was the only thing the girl said before slamming the door right in Jo's face. Dean burst out in laughter. Jo punched his shoulder pretty hard and sounded the door bell again. This time it was Cas who answered, and Dean's face never turned from 'fun times' to 'I hate you' this quickly.

Jo tried again: “Hey, I'm Jo, from ' _WinchEvents'._ I'm here to pick up the bouncy house. Or rather he is,” she pointed to Dean, “Can't carry heavy stuff so,”

Cas wasn't even looking at her. Dean wasn't sure he was paying attention to what she was saying either. He was too busy staring at Dean, who was busy staring at something else _but_ Castiel.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Let me give you a hand with that,” he offered, but Dean ignored him, shooting past him, trying very hard not to touch Cas.

Amelia was scratching dirty hay from a speck of grass. At least Karma did something right. Then again, Dean was the one who slept with her husband so technically he should be the one getting punished. At least she skipped the chitchat and left him alone with a slowly deflating Castle. “You and me both buddy,” he sighed.

“You seem more disappointed about this than I am,” Claire mused. Dean didn't even notice her showing up.

“Well, I'm probably younger than you are. It's just I don't age very well. Besides, aren't _you_ a little too old to even want a bouncy house?”

She sat down on the grass, pulling stalks out with clay. “Are you ever?” _The apple sure doesn't fall far from the tree,_ “Then again, I probably am for pony's as well. They were mostly mom's idea. She likes all that princess stuff. So do the neighbor’s kids.”

Dean couldn't help but chuckle. “And you don't?”

“Nope. Dad said next birthday he's gonna take me somewhere I _actually_ wanna go.”

Claire seemed like a nice kid. That sure didn't help with the guilt he was feeling. “You like your dad, huh?”

“He's not home much, but sure thing. He's nice, he loves to spend time with me, he helps people in his job. What's more to want?”

“I wouldn't know,” Dean sighed.

Claire stopped pulling out the grass. “Your dad's dead?”

Dean was caught off-guard by how direct her question was. Usually people are more cautious when it comes to that. They take _forever_ to build up the courage and by the time they're done asking Dean's more pissed off about the way they did it than the question itself. Back in high school he was _this_ close to making signs that said: IM FINE, JUST ASK DUDE, MY PARENTS ARE DEAD/GET OVER IT. Somebody just straight out asking was nice for a change. “Yeah, died when I was even younger than you are.”

“And I'm how old?”

“Amelia said nine, but I probably misheard. You look- twelve?” Dean said, hesitantly. Teenagers tend to be very sensitive about their age.

She smiled a crooked smile. “I like you. I'm 13 though. Anyway, have fun with that Castle,” Claire said, going back and closing the door to the room Dean earlier assumed was hers.

He soon followed, dragging the box and the pump through the living room. Dean slipped, almost dropping ít on the hardwood floor if Cas weren't there to catch it in time.

Dean just barked out a 'Thanks' and stormed out again, throwing the devices onto Jo's pickup.

As always, she took her sweet time making small talk with the guy Dean committed adultery with less than 24 hours ago. “Come on, Jo! We gotta go!” He honked a few times for emphasis.

Jo hugged Cas goodbye ( did she really just _hug_ Cas? ) and ran back to the pickup. “Jee, impatient-much.”

“Did you just _hug_ him?”  
“Hon, you don't know the half of it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need a AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos on a fic you liked! Enjoy!


	4. Shakr It Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When things are rough, you need to take a break. Or make an account on a dating app. Either thing works just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it took so long to update, school's really stressful atm and I barely have time to write stuff and if I do I mostly write chapters instead of editing the old ones. Sorry in advance bc its prob gonna happen again.   
> Thanks to everyone who's read along so far and commented!   
> If you enjoy the fic, I'd appreciate a kudos (u dont need an account for it)

CHAPT 4. IT'S GOING DOWN I'M YELLING TINDER

SHAKR IT UP

hav it planned out in my folder

Fuck Castiel Novak – or actually, don't fuck Castiel Novak. Ever again.

Dean's visit at the Novak household was a couple days in the past but it definitely wasn't long forgotten. In fact it was the only thing Dean could think about, replaying the moments in his head again and again, trying to make sense of it, but no matter how he looked at it, it was over. Castiel screwed up and Dean felt cheated – which felt like a big, ironic fuck you from the universe, since technically he was the one who Castiel cheated with. What was he thinking? The dude has a kid and apparently a wife. He made Dean break his only hook up rule: no married people. Dean was called a lot of things by a lot of people but homewrecker was never on that list. Until now.

After everything that's happened over the past few weeks he just wanted a break, to take a minute and breathe, recuperate. Going back to work seemed like the next best thing to do so. Something about the city made Dean feel alive again. The rush of it, the people, laughing and talking. Sure, also the thrill of the job. And of course, his partner in crime, Gabe.

“I'm telling you Deano, you need a distraction. Sign that dog of yours up for training. We could use a vicious beast to scare off the bad guys. You know there was this one German show wh-”

“Gabe,” Dean sighed defeated, “I'm pretty sure Golden Retrievers can't be trained to become police dogs. Besides, that thing's way too fat.”

Gabe almost choked on his sandwich, spitting bread crumbs on the seat. Dean handed him some tissues to clean up the mess, but Gabe only scowled at him. “No dog-bod shaming in my car.”

“Pretty sure a police car is owned by the precinct but sure.”

“Now, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, there was this German TV show ca-”

Ah, Gabe Milton. The two of them were partners for four year now and each and every day was just as bizarre as the next one. That guy could talk for hours on end, and Dean often wondered why he pursued a career in law enforcement and not radio. Gabe would've probably been an excellent radio host.

They knew each other since high school, Dean used to date his sister Anna for a while, before she was institutionalized during senior year. Poor thing started to hear voices or something. Gabe visits her every now and again, pays for the medical bills. In hindsight Dean's angry at himself for not being friends with Gabe back then. Now he's probably the closest thing Dean has to a best friend (except Jo, but she went M.I.A on him).

Dean got Gabe up to speed on his “”situation”” right after everything happened. The level of enthusiasm he received in response turned out to be slightly creepy. Then again, so were most things about Gabe.

“So what you're saying is, the dog did all the work and the guy just cuffed them?”, Dean asked, putting down his coke zero between his legs.   
“Pretty much,” Gabe laughed. “Talking about doing all the work, how's it going with that guy of yours?”

Now it was Dean's time to scowl. “He's not _my_ guy. He's not my anything anymore. Never was really. Jerk.”

“You're blushing, Deano. Just admit that you like him,” he said, each word punctuated with a hard jab against Dean's side. “Or try to get over him.”

Dean scoffed. “Easier said than done.”

“You know what they say: Plenty of fish, when life gives you lemons, all that motivational crap. Just get out there. Date!”

“I'm starting to feel like you're more excited about this than I am.”

“Well, duh! It's not every day your best friend tells you he's gay -”

“Bi,” Dean interrupted. “I'm bi, Gabe. Pretty much in the middle on the Kinsey scale.”

Gabe bowed down apologetically, over-dramatizing this just as much as every other thing in his life. “My apologies. Still, my statement stands. Date, dude. He was only your first, right? _Right?_ ”

Dean felt his cheeks flush, “Shut up!”

“It's understandable that you're hung up on him. Find yourself a rebound guy. Someone who can show you the world,” the last words Gabe sang in the tone of Aladdin’s 'A Whole New World'. “Shining, glittery, spandex'.”

“I think you're getting a bit off-track here,” this conversation was starting to really get on Dean's nerves, and once again Gabe made Dean wish someone will get robbed so they'd have something else to do.

“Right, sorry. Let's just talk this over at Bobby's tonight.”

The wicked grin Gabe shot Dean raised more than one red flag but he figured there was not much else that could go wrong with his life so why not add one more thing to the pile, “Let's meet at Eight?”

“Eight it is.”

 

*

 

And eight it was. There was a football match that night so Bobby's bar was pretty full. Regulars and fresh faces mingled, betting on their teams and cheering them on. For some, ocean waves and chirping birds were soothing, for Dean it was the sound of a loud bar on a Friday night.

“Not gonna do it.”

“Just give me your phone, Dean. Give. It. To. Me,” Gabe said, struggling to grab Dean's phone out of his hands. The man was a great deal shorter than Dean and it wasn't a fair fight but it sure as hell amused Dean. They probably looked like a child trying to take back it's toy from their older brother. Eventually, Gabe sat back down, resigned. “Wow,” he sighed, “I can't believe you have so little trust in your _partner._ If you trust me so little here, how am I supposed to know you have my back out there,” he said wryly.

“Heh, really Gabe? Guilt tripping me? Bastard.” And on that note, he handed Gabe his smartphone.

Gabe smiled, mumbling under his breath that sounded something like 'Works every time'. His fingers worked their way over the touch screen with determination, Gabe's brows furrowed, concentrated. The wider Gabe's grin became the more Dean felt sick to the stomach. Luckily, Ellen just got back behind the counter. She was putting some of the money she won on bets into the cash register. “Hey Ellen, any word from Jo?”

“Radio silence. She's fine, I bet. Why d'you ask?”

“Yeah, she probably is. It's nothing. Just miss her, I guess. I'm glad she's doing it, though.”

Ellen placed a hand on Dean's and smiled. “Me too.”

Jo was trying out for an internship in NYC for a couple of months, even before Dean moved back into the house with them. Later she told Dean she didn't want to get anyone's hopes up, and that's the reason she didn't find it necessary to tell them. It was some huge PR manager internship, one of those 'once in a lifetime' opportunities. The thing was that she had to leave the same day they picked up the stuff from Novak's. In all the rush Dean forgot to ask her what the thing was 'he didn't know the half of' but by the time he remembered, she was already sitting in a cab to the airport.

“Gabe, seriously. Come on.”

“All done,” Gabe proclaimed, putting the phone down on the table, “Let's get you some.”

Dean squinted at the screen, not sure if he was reading it correctly. “What the hell is a _Shakr?_ ”

“You're supposed to pronounce it 'shaker',” Gabe corrected, “Anyway, it's a gay dating app. Shows you all the guys in the area. Let's you set up a personalized profile. Wanna try?”

For once Sober Dean decided to act like Drunk Dean would. Besides, after that night with Castiel Dean had found himself craving some dude on dude, but every time he as much as thought about going to a gay club in the city his anxiety got the better of him.

“You called me 'impala67'?”

“What, people gotta know how much you love her.”

Dean grinned. “I'm impressed. Okay. Location, Seattle. Seeking, Both.”

“Wouldn't it be smarter to put in 'guys only'? You can pick up a girl at a bar if you want, or anywhere really, but this,” he was pointing to the phone, “is like your Year Book of gay. Sources are limited my friend.”

Maybe Gabe was right. “Seeking, Men. Status, Never Married. About:... What do I put in there?”

Gabe furrowed his brows again, and Dean could almost see the wheels turning. “Gimme.”

He typed and typed, the light of the phone illuminating his malicious face. “Done.”

“ ' I arrest bad guys on the regular but the sight of you put a(r)rest to my heart – cuffs and guns not included with this product '… Seriously?” Dean raised his eyebrows in a question.

“It makes sense if you look at the picture as well,” Gabe answered proudly, taking a sip of his beer.

Said picture was from this spring BBQ at Gabe's parents house. They just got off work and Dean didn't feel like heading back home to change before going, so he was still wearing his Seattle P.D uniform. The one with the short sleeves, and Dean had to admit, it was a damn good picture. He put the phone down and clapped his hand against Gabe's back “Never thought I'd say this but thanks, man.”

“Oh Deano, we're not done yet. Hook-ups, relationship or dates?”

“All of the above? Is there an option for that?” Gabe nodded, “Then do that.”

“Sure, now: What type of gay are you?”

As if being bi wasn't confusing enough, he had to be a type? “What do you mean, what _type?”_

“You're a lost cause. Are you sure you're half-gay? I- “

“Still bi. Not half-gay, not half-straight. Doesn't work that way,” he tried to explain, but Gabe just talked over him.

“I, apparently, know more stuff about this than you. So, you're 33, still a jock, though. Do you like hairy and beefy guys, older guys, skinny and younger guys, geeky guys-”

“Gabe, shut it. I don't know ok. Just don't put any preference and show me who's on it, for gods sake.”

Some guys in the back cheered. A team scored a point and by the looks Bobby was shooting Ellen, he probably got the shorter end of that stick. “Want me to fill in for you so you two can talk?”, Dean offered.

“I'm gonna take you up on that offer. I told him he's not supposed to bet, he never gets lucky.”

“He got lucky with you,” Gabe said.

“Well if he's gonna act like a fool then he'll be out of luck soon,” she joked, leaving Dean behind the counter. His safe haven. “So, who's playing on _my_ team tonight?”

“You've been following the game this whole night, you should know better than I-”  
“No, Gabe. I mean who's gay here.”

“I know dumbass. That guy over there,” he said, pointing to the booth in the far left corner. A bit on the chubby side, jersey and cappy, beard. Dean felt his heart rate go up by a hundred. It wasn't even the guy himself. The idea of someone else, someone who's not Castiel being up for grabs and in the near vicinity was exhilarating. Sure, Dean met gay guys before, was hit on, even. But back then he wasn't out. Now...

“That's the only one here. Most of them are in the cities, but just scroll through, fave your faves and we'll get back to them later.”

Dean took the phone and started to look through the pictures, and for the first time in forever he couldn't have been more happy about living in Seattle. The guys were _hot._ By the time he was done, he had about 30+ guys on the list, which they were looking at right now.

“Hate to break it to you but you clearly have a type.”

Dean was taken aback. “Do not.”

“Do too. Look at them. I figure about 2/3 of them are dark-haired and/or blue eyed.”

Dean's insides were boiling with rage. Gabe was right, most of the guys looked like Cas in one way or another. Maybe getting over him would take a bit more than an account on a dating app. “What's that blue thing in the corner?”

“It's your messages. I guess the cop outfit really did it for some guys.”

Somebody _messaged_ him? This account was like half an hour old but there were about ten new messages. And one of them..

“He looks nice, right?,” Dean asked, shyly, showing Gabe a photo of 'kingof666'. Handsome face, a bit older than Dean, dark scruff, probably shorter, too. Something about him fascinated Dean. Enough to forget about Cas for a minute.

“What he wrote looks even nicer,” Gabe joked, taking the phone from Dean, much to Dean's dismay. “Oh don't worry, it's not like I'm reading some filthy gay smut! He just said 'Well hello there, handsome. How are you doing tonight? Still out making sure the city's safe and I can sleep without worry? smiley-face.”

Before Dean could stammer out any response at all, Gabe was already typing out a response. “ 'For such a lovely face I'd make sure personally that everything's okay, winky-face.”

“You son of a bitch,” Dean growled, slapping Gabe with a wet dish cloth.

“Oh come on Dean. Don't tell me you don't like him.”

Gabe was right. Dean couldn't. With some hesitation, and anxiety, he asked “What'd he say?”

“ ' That can be arranged. Want to go out for dinner tomorrow? Or if that's too formal, drinks? My treat'. Mission accomplished,” Gabe said, taking a celebratory sip of his beer. This time he waited for Dean's response. After a minute of thought Dean decided dinner wouldn't hurt. In the end, it's not that different from straight dates. “Write: Dinner sounds great. Just send me the details.”

The phone buzzed again. “ 'Sure thing. Looking forward to it, officer.'”  
“Seems like my boy's got himself a date!”

 


	5. A Man of Principles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First dates, tough decisions and old friends coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all the kind comments! I'm glad you're enjoying my fic. You're really motivating me to continue writing this silly little story. Once again, sorry it took this long to update. But exams are over soon and I'll have more time.
> 
> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need a AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos on a fic you liked! Enjoy!

Dean wasn't nervous. He was terrified. Yesterday, the idea of a date with a handsome older guy seemed like a reasonable thing to agree to. Now he wished somebody would have smashed his phone and bound his hands. On top of that, Dean had a massive hangover, and Sam's healthy smoothies were not a big help.

“Eugh, this tastes worse than those Gwyneth Palthrow stuff they sold me at the bio market.”

Sam shot him a look somewhere between vague amusement and slight terror. “I don't know what's more surprising: the fact that my brother went to a bio market or that he bought something without cholesterol.”

“Hey! A guy's gotta eat, and I don't feel like dying from a heart attack by the time I turn 30.”

“You're right. If you keep up drinking like this, it's gonna be the liver damage that puts the final nail into your coffin,” Sam laughed, clapping Dean on the shoulder half-heartedly. They were cleaning up the bar after last nights event. Bobby and Ellen decided to run errands early that day, so it was up to the two boys to make something presentable out of the mess. It was feeling a lot like old times, which Dean learned to appreciate quite a lot. Only after his little brother came back home did he realise how much he missed him over the years. “Why are you so worked up anyway, Dean? It's just a date.”

Dean scoffed. “You're one to talk. You were practically shitting your pants before you went out with that girl- what was her name again? Rose? Ru-”

“Ruby. Yes. That was different, though. She was-”

“Hot?,” Dean offered. “Well, so's he. And the whole guys thing is pretty much undiscovered territory to me. For now.”

Sam handed Dean a plate to rinse. “Just act like he's a girl.” Dean scowled. “Oh, you know what I mean. Be yourself. His private parts don't change anything. Not outside the bedroom, at least.”

Dean couldn't explain it – and except for his drunken adventure with Cas he had little to no experience – but he was pretty sure being with a guy felt a lot different than being with a girl. He'd probably spend more time thinking about it had Sam not pressed him with more questions. “What's his deal anyway?”  
“His profile didn't say much and we haven't texted a lot. He's a lawyer-”

“Someone's got a type,” Sam muttered, this time ending up on the receiving end of a punch to the shoulder. “Ow, jerkface.”

“He's 40. Don't you dare make any jokes about that or I swear,” Dean warned, but Sam only put his hands up in defense, chuckling. “And apparently he has a shitload of money. From what he mentioned, he's also British.”

Sam opened his mouth but before any snarky comment could make it out, the front door was flung open. Dean was already preparing himself to send another regular away but this time it wasn't a customer. “Jo?”

“Surprise!,” Jo yelled, half-stumbling and half-running into Dean's arms, her luggage and other bags squeezing things that should not be squeezed “Oh, I've missed you so much- Come here, big guy,” she said waving Sammy over, her words muffled by Dean's shoulder.

Back in the day they used to call this their Awkward Sibling Hug. Again, a pang of nostalgia filled Dean's heart.

Sammy offered to take Jo's things back to her room, and backed away to give the two of them some privacy to talk.

“Want anything to drink?”

Jo shrugged. “Nah, I had a terrible flight. My stomach's still kind of upset.” Dean poured her one anyway. She downed it. “I missed you guys. And I know we haven't talked much since I moved to New York-”

“More like we haven't talked at all, b-,” Dean started, but Jo just talked over him. “Things are just so stressful at the moment.” He had to admit, Jo did look tired. Bags under her eyes and disheveled hair were not a Jo Harvelle look. Even back in high school when they were all cramming for finals day in and day out, she looked impeccable. This new job was probably taking a lot out of her. Dean took her hand into his, his thumb rubbing softly over the top of her palm. “Are you sure you're okay?”  
Jo squeezed his hand, smiling. “Yeah- yeah. Charlie's definitely been a big help.”  
“Well, who is this Charlie you're speaking off, Miss Harvelle? I think he needs a little thank you note.”

“ _She_ does. Maybe I'll fly her out here some day. It's still very fresh, I guess we'll see,” she said, giving him one of her special Jo grins. Most often seen before high school pranks and general mischief.

It took Dean a while before he fully registered what she just said. And a bit longer to find something he could say. He didn't know what to say.

“Shouldn't you be happy you're not all _bi_ yourself anymore? Dean, please say _some_ thing or I might have to punch you.”

Dean figured the best answer to the news was to drink to that. He put two freshly rinsed glasses on the table and poured both of them a shot. “To your thing, Jo!” They both downed their drinks.

“Dean?”

“Hm?”

“About Cas-”

Dean pulled his hand away, as if his name alone were stinging poison. “Don't spoil the moment, Jo.”

“Oh, come on Dean, eventually we'll have to talk about it.”

Dean turned around under the pretext of organizing the liquor shelf. In fact, he just couldn't face Jo when talking about Cas. He was ready to talk weeks ago, but now that Dean was finally ready to move on, he just didn't want to do it anymore. Whatever Jo knows, she can keep it to herself. “There's nothing to talk about, Jo.”

“Dean,” her voice was softer now. “Look at me.” He could feel her eyes stare a hole into his back. Were they pitiful? Hopeful and happy? Dean didn't want to know.

“Jo, I have a date tonight. And the last thing I want to think about today is-”

“Cas?,” she butted in. “Because I'm sure you're the only thing that he's been thinking about.”

Dean slammed a fist on the counter. The liquor bottles clinked against eachother from the impact. “That's too damn bad. And stop saying his name like you were friends. It's over. It was a one time thing. Let's just all forget about it and move on. Lately that's the only thing you were good, so why not do it again?” Dean didn't know when he started shouting but he was now. All the anger he was feeling for Castiel pouring out of him. The weight of it all coming down on Jo.

He heard a chair being moved, feet being stomped. When Dean turned around Jo was gone. He had seven more hours to kill before the date. Luckily, the bar would open soon enough and with Bobby and Ellen nowhere in sight, he'd have to stick around.

 

*

Grey light was coming through the windows into Castiel Novak's office. He was sitting alone, reviewing the evidence he'll present to the court in a couple of weeks. His eyes were burning and the aspirin Cheryll gave him wasn't kicking in yet. If things keep going the way they do now he'll never build a proper case defending his client. Then again, how could he when all that was going through his head for weeks on end was Dean. Specifically Dean's lips wrapped around Castiel's dick, or the way he was writhing with pleasure as Cas was undoing him, breaking him in. But each time those moments are spoiled by the events that followed: Cas bringing Claire home. Cas seeing Dean stand in the hallway of his old house. Both of them slowly realising what is going on. Cas wanting to run after him, to explain, to somehow make him stay. He wanted to tell Dean, he really did. In the end, he told it Jo, and she promised to talk to Dean. But that was a long time ago and nothing happened so Cas figured he ruined it once again. Another name added to the list of Castiel personal screw-ups: Dean Winchester, please meet Amelia and Gabe, Gabe and Amelia, please welcome Dean.

Cas ran his hands through his hair and slumped back in his chair, letting out a big, long sigh. This needed to stop. He can't afford to lose this case, especially not to _him_ , and if he keeps going like this, he _is_ going to lose. Tonight, Cas decided, he will go over to the bar he saw Dean at, and they're gonna talk it out. Besides, there's still a jacket that needs to be returned to it's rightful owner.

 

*

 

Dean assumed Crowley liked it fancy. There was just something about him that screamed glamour and money. But sending an Uber to pick up your date and ordering the best table in a prestigious restaurant with a clear view over the city? Now _that's_ fancy. Suddenly Dean's old tuxedo he bought for a college’s funeral felt like a shirt from Target. Dean just felt really out of place, and his date picked up on that pretty quickly. “Relax, you look dashing,” said the man sitting across the table from Dean. His eyes crinkled a bit when he smiled. Dean had to admit, it was pretty damn cute.

“That obvious?,” Dean smiled, blushing a bit. He didn't know what to do. This was nothing like a date with a woman. To hell with Sammy.

The man, Crowley, smiled again, squinting his eyes. “A tad.”

Dean huffed, dropping his head. “Listen, I-”

“How about we get out of here, then?,” Crowley offered, already standing up and taking Dean by the hand. “There's a burger place a few blocks down. I've never been but it's supposed to be fantastic.”

Again, Dean was blindsided. He definitely liked this Crowley better than the posh, fancy version. “Don't you think we're a bit overdressed?”

“I guess there's only one way to find out,” Crowley said, winking at Dean, and once again Dean found himself blushing. With Crowley everything was happening so quickly. One minute he is sitting in a very comfortable chair, deciding if he wants to spend half his salary on chicken or steak and the next he's walking down the street, with Crowley's arm wrapped around his waist, both of them laughing.  
“Wasn't this technically dine and dash?”

“Well, love, we didn't get to the dining part yet, so our dash window was still open,” Crowley snorted.

They had a rough start, that's for sure, but after they got out of the restaurant and Dean finally felt more like himself again, it was as if Crowley was a whole different person as well. He was laughing out loud, keeping the conversation going, all the while keeping Dean close by. Dean was pretty sure they walked past the burger place a few times now, but just walking was too good to end it. Besides, he liked to feel Crowley's arm around his waist and he was pretty sure it wouldn't be once they were inside.

“Real-talk: why did you write me on Shakr?,” Dean asked.

Crowley pulled back a bit to look at Dean. His dark eyes were glistening in the yellow lights of the city. “Because you're a really handsome chap. And I really wanted to see you. Why did you respond?”

Dean was starting to feel hot. He was pretty sure there were pools of sweat on the back of his shirt, and once again he was glad they stayed outside. Crowley and him were both standing now, staring into each others faces, the older man's arm not budging from Dean's side. Dean licked his lips. “I guess- There was something,” his eyes darted over Crowley's lips and back to his eyes. “Something about you,” Crowley's hand was slowly running up Dean's back, every inch burning hotter against Dean's skin. “Something captivating,” Dean breathed, his face suddenly so close to Crowley's. He wanted to kiss him. To just lean into Crowley and press his lips on his, to feel his scruff scratch his cheek, to slip his tongue- Dean pulled away. He told himself he will take things slow this time. Which is exactly what he told Crowley when he saw the disappointment in the man's face. Of course he left out the gruesome details about his incident with Castiel Novak.

“I respect that,” Crowley said, firmly but kindly, “I like a man with principles.”

“What can I say, I am an officer of the law through and through,” Dean chuckled, taking Crowley's hand and walking towards the red door of the 'Hamburglar' they were about to pass for the sixth time. “Now let me show you how good cheap can feel.”

 

*

 

_A knock is all it takes. Really not that hard. Raise your hand, form a fist, knock it against the wooden door a time or two. Wait. Wait..._

Castiel waited like this for what felt like an eternity but couldn't be more than a few minutes. No matter what he tried, he could not bring himself to knock on that goddamn door. His grip on the jacket tightened. He could do this. He needed to do this. Cas raised his hand to knock when-

Somebody opened the door. The man was tall, attractive, and very confused to find a smaller man with his fist raised. Cas coughed. “Is Dean home?”

The man kept staring at him, then down at the jacket, then back up at Castiel. “He's- not. I'm sorry. But I can take this for him if you want?,” he said politely.

Thank god he was polite. For a second there Cas was afraid he might react differently. He didn't know how much Dean told his family about him, but whatever it was, it probably wasn't good. “That would be very kind. Thank you,” Cas answered, trying not to show his disappointment. A part of him knew this would go that way but whatever flicker of hope he had to fix what was broken was gone now. He turned around to go away when he heard the guy who answered the door call after him. “Cas?,” Cas looked back to face the tall man. “I think it's best if you don't come here anymore,” he said matter-of-factly. “You really hurt my brother, you know. And I don't want him to hurt anymore.”

Cas didn't know how to respond. He was so chocked up, he wasn't sure he _could_ respond. So he simply walked to his car, got in and drove back to the city, the tall man becoming smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror until he was gone. And Cas knew so was Dean.

 

 


	6. Teen Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's not a pre-written and completed fic it always takes me a while to update. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.
> 
> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need a AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos on a fic you liked!

“Come 'ere Gunther, good boy,” Crowley said, scratching the old dog behind his ear. Again, Gunther seemed to find everyone else a lot better than Dean, Crowley being no exception to his rule. He was wagging his tail so hard, his eyes all squinty, enjoying every rub Crowley gave him. _I know the feeling, buddy,_ Dean thought to himself.

They were well into autumn now. All the leaves were losing the green and putting on a dozen shades of reds and yellows, barely hanging on to the branches. It was pouring more often than not, Seattle finally feeling like the Seattle Dean knew. Rainy days were his favourite. Finally gave him a reason to stay inside and be a bum without feeling guilty for it. Except if he had to work on those days. Chasing some guy whilst being drenched by the rain was never a good combination.

Some shops Dean and Crowley passed on their way to the park already dusted off their Christmas décor, ready to get into the holiday spirit even though there were still at least three week until Halloween. Dean figured it's never too early for exploitation and consumerism.

That day was the first semi-nice day of the week. The weather cleared up and blessed Seattle with a few last rays of sunshine. It was Crowley's idea to go out – it was always his idea. Not like Dean hasn't tried to come up with something. He's just _busy._ Jo went back to New York for a month (neither her nor Dean trying to talk it out before she left), Sammy took on a job somewhere Dean wasn't quite sure how to pronounce, and Bobby and Ellen picked up an old hobby of Bobby's: antiquities and old, 'supernatural' junk. It was a transitioning period for the bar – summer drunks who like to hang out at Bobby's to holiday drunks – so Dean figured he could take over for a bit. Give the old man some free time for himself. Only after he agreed to it, did Dean remember that proper dating meant actually spending time and having time for said person. Thus leading to a lot of lunch dates and almost no real spend time together.

Dean felt a soft hand stroking his. Followed by the smell of sandalwood and fresh coffee. Dean would love to bury his face in that smell. “What are you thinking 'bout, Dean?,” Crowley asked, standing close to him. Always so close. With him by his side, even the chilly autumn breeze wouldn't make Dean shiver.

“How I can make up our lost time to you,” Dean replied. When he looked at Crowley, the other man was smiling, one eyebrow cocked in confusion.  
“There is no 'lost time', Dean. Just the time we spend together. You don't need to make anything up. I like it the way things are.”

“Doesn't mean that I can't make it _up_ to you,” Dean pressed on. He squeezed Crowley's hand a bit tighter now. They were standing close, body's touching but not quite. Gunther was currently chasing a leaf somewhere down the way, yanking at Crowley's wrist with the leash.

“I want to make it up, _to you,_ ” Dean repeated, hoping Crowley would understand. He usually did.

Crowley squinted his eyes, took a moment to think, and eventually formed a knowing “O!” with his mouth. Soon followed by a cheeky grin. “You're sure, darling?,” he asked. Their fingers were laced together now, even though Dean's palm was sweating profusely.

Dean was sure. More than sure in fact. People say the ground-rule of dating is that you seal the deal after at least three dates. Counting all the lunches and dinners and short five minute make-out sessions in Crowley's office this was technically their twenty-somethingtht date. Way past the due date. But Dean didn't feel like doing it and Crowley was too kind to press on. The furthest they got so far was dry-humping on Crowley's desk which lead to rutting into eachother's hands and coming all over Crowley's expensive suit. The thing with Cas messed with Dean and he didn't want it to be like that with Crowley. But now he knew it wouldn't be like this ever again. With him he felt at peace, the ever-present hum at the back of his head, rushing, always on the look-out finally took a break.

Dean leaned forward, kissing Crowley on the lips. It was a soft kiss, his tongue only lazily playing with Crowley's bottom lip before he pulled back. “I'm sure.”

 

 

 

*

 

“Are you sure it's okay, dad?”

Cas looked at her through the rear view mirror. She wore heavy mascara and she started to wear her hair in a disheveled kind of way. It still seemed like yesterday that he laid her down in the old crib he and Amy found in his mother's storage unit and now the smell of teen rebellion was all upon her. He was really missing out on all the parenting. He didn't even remember the last time he was at her school or a parents teacher conference. Usually Amy was responsible for that sort of thing although she wasn't the most reliable source of information the last couple of weeks. Castiel felt like every time he went back home to visit _something_ was wrong – either the house or Amelia herself. Apparently this week Amy forgot to turn the stove off when she left for work. Cas doesn't even want to begin to imagine what would've happened if Claire hadn't skipped class that day. He was so worked up over it that they both forgot to punish Claire for skipping class in the first place.

“It'll be fine, honey. Besides, aunt Anna hasn't seen you for a long time now. She will be so happy to see you,” he assured her, although he knew his words held little meaning. By now everyone was perfectly aware that one could never predict the state his little sister will be in, but none of them said a word. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

“Sooo,” Claire began, leaning forward to look at Cas. “You seeing anyone?”

Cas hit the brakes so hard the person driving behind him had to veer past him and got _this close_ to hitting their side-view mirror. Claire laughed, hitting the pollster of the backseat. “I'll take this as a yes, then.”

Cas coughed up once. “10 points for changing the subject. And sadly, dear daughter of mine, I would have to inform you that your old man is presently man-free.”

She sighed. “Come _on_ , dad. You gotta get out there.”

Castiel fought back a chuckle. Talking about guys with his kid still felt a bit odd but when she turned 12 Amy and him decided it was about time to explain to her what is going on at home. Nothing has surprised Cas more than the understanding, accepting and open-minded his little girl was. And never before was he more proud to call himself her dad.

“What about you, though? Any boys coming to your yard?”  
“My what now?”  
“You know, like in that song? God, I'm old,” Cas mumbled, “What I meant to say is: is there a special boy at your school?”

“Special? Most definitely. But not in that way. Rather special as in annoying as hell.”

Cas felt relieved. As much as he wants to be the cool dad, handling a boyfriend was not on the list yet.

“Want to play the game?,” Cas offered and Claire started, “Road sign.”

“Not a motorcycle.”  
“Come on, dad, you already lost.”

“Well, you know that starting with road sign is a mean thing to do. That's the oldest trick in the book!,” Cas protested and started a second round.

They came up with the game on one of their road trips, back when Claire was no older than eight. Amy said a thing she saw in that moment, then Cas had to follow up with a thing that began with the letter Amy's word ended with. The only rule was: they weren't allowed to repeat themselves. Claire _loved_ it as a kid, screaming out different types of trees she learned at school, or simply making up words before anyone could say anything.

A lot of things were broken between Amy and Cas but he really missed those times. They were a family, then. Happy. And Cas knew Claire had something he never had the privilege to have: unconditional love a parent has for their child.

Yassmin, the admissions lady, greeted them friendly at the reception. By now Cas was a regular visitor. Besides, they knew eachother from a case way back. Her husband was a drunk, which was reason enough for Cas to defend her and get her everything she could suck out of that asshole of a wife-beater. That's how Cas managed to keep his visits on the down-low. Anna had a few other visitors and Castiel was sure for them not to see his name on the visitors list was better than the alternative.

“Claire, you've _grown,_ ” Yassmin smiled, getting an eye roll in response.

 _Puberty,_ Cas mouthed to her in apology, taking Claire by the shoulder's and leading her to Anna's room.

He knocked on the door.

If Anna answered it usually meant the meds were working and she was having one of her better days. The last couple of times Cas was there, she hasn't said anything.

Silence.

Cas held his breath and knocked again.

A muffled voice told them to come in. Everything in Cas lit up like a Christmas tree. His little sister was there. She was talking. Tears burned at the back of his eyes but he forced them down.

Anna sat on her bed, her gaze wandering over the ceiling. Her red hair was getting a bit long, almost to her stomach. Cas made a mental note to ask someone at the desk to cut it the way she used to back home. Anna loved to do it herself, Cas remembered. Playing hair salon and snapping at his hair with scissors and electric razors. One time he had to go to school with a bald spot at the back of his head because of her. His throat closed up.

Nobody said anything. Claire stood stiff next to him. He knew how she must feel. The first couple of times he saw Anna he was the same. Claire hasn't seen her in months.

Eventually, Anna looked at him- or rather through him. Then her eyes focused on his and she smiled. “Cassy. You came back? But Gabe- he said you won't be getting back before summer break.”

His smile wavered. She thought he was in college, now back in town for vacation. Castiel sat down next to her, the mattress creaking under his weight. There were shackles on the sides of the bed, something that wasn't there the last time he visited. “No, Anna, look. See who wanted to come with? It's Claire.”

Anna looked at him, confused. One time she told him it often feels like she has to put together a puzzle without the corner pieces.

“Right,” she said hesitantly, “Claire. My niece. Oh, how big you are,” she mused, placing her hand on the bed. Tension seemed to seep out of Claire and she sat down next to Anna, the bed now visibly giving way under the pressure of 2 ½ adults.

“How are you feeling, aunty?”

Anna clasped her hand over the girl's, giving her one of the sincerest smiles. “I am _fine._ What about you? Now that you entered the dreadful world of teens, any changes? Boys? Tell me everything.”

And Claire did. In fact, they talked way past visitor's time, and for that time Castiel felt at peace. For the first time in a while all of his worries and regrets forgotten, if only for that day.

 

*

 

At home, Dean put out some fresh food for Gunther, dumping the old tray into the trash. While he fetched some water for the dog, he told Crowley to get comfortable. Or at least try to. Switching from Crowley's high-end, minimalistic (and vaguely _50 Shades of Gray-ish_ ) apartment to a run-down bar/house/hotel for every stray friend of Bobby's can be hard. There will at least be an adjustment period needed.

Gunther licked Dean's hand in approval, and in return Dean ruffled the old dog's fur. “See, you don't hate me.”

Crowley was inspecting the pictures on the wall leading upstairs to the actual house. The one he held in his hand when Dean caught up to him was of Sam, Jo and Dean rocking their robes and each of them holding a diploma in hand.

“Ah, high school graduation. A blessing it was.”

“You looked cute as a teenager,” Crowley mused, looking down at the picture and then up at Dean again. Comparing past and present. “If only we had been in school at the same time. I would-” he cut himself off, smirk still in place.

Dean felt the tension fill the room, like an inflating balloon. It was growing ever since they started back from the park, but now there's even less room for it and it feels like it could burst any minute now.

He knows he has a choice. He can either prick it with a pin and blow it up once again or take a leap and see what happens. He decides to do the latter. “You would what?”

Dean leaned closer, pushing Crowley back to the base of the stairs. He saw him swallow hard, obviously surprised by the sudden assertiveness. Crowley hung up the picture back on the wall and turned around to face Dean.

He put his hand under Dean's chin, his thumb pressed hard on Dean's lip. “I would make it my personal goal to fuck you in the locker room and then leave you there, wanting more.”

Crowley opened his coat, letting it slip to the floor. “I would mark you up and look on as you stammer and struggle to find half-assed explanations.” Now, Crowley worked the buttons of his shirt, each slight of hand revealing more skin.

Every molecule in Dean's body was on overdrive yet he felt frozen in the moment. All he wanted was to fall over Crowley right there and then but all he was allowed to do was stand there and listen. And want.

“I would let you ride me in the bathroom during lunch break. Listen as you struggle to keep quiet, worried that someone might hear us. Worried that someone might find out how needy you are to slide down my cock.”

Fuck yes he wanted that. He longed for that. Dean felt the bulge in his pants press hard against the rough fabric of his underpants. The sight of Crowley's hairy chest only added fuel to that fire. He was surprised to find a tattoo ordaining the older man's body and even more so to find out how much it turned him on.

“Will you just stand there all day, or-?,” Crowley asked, demanding.

This was, yet again, a totally different version of Crowley. Commanding, dominant, greedy. Fuck, Dean liked this.

Finally, he stumbled out of his clothes, almost falling over in his attempt to casually slip out of his too tight jeans. A small price to pay for a hot looking ass, though.

When he was in the same state of undressed as Crowley, which was wearing only underwear, Dean stepped back to take a look at the man standing in front of him. To _really_ look at him. And even though he tried to fight it back, he couldn't not compare Crowley to Castiel. Where the one man was smooth, the other was all hair and perfect imperfections. Where Cas was soft and wanting, Crowley pinched hard and claimed it as his own.

Dean gasped as Crowley slipped his tongue inside of him, deep down his throat. The muffled sound was answered by a squeeze of his ass, hard fingers digging deep into the flesh.

Crowley's stubble burned against Dean's skin, making his dick twitch. The growing bulge was throbbing, wanting to be freed, or at least receive some of Crowley's attention. Yet Crowley was having none of that. Instead his hands were working under Dean's briefs, pinching his butt cheeks, tickling Dean's rim. “I will fuck you so hard,” Crowley promised, his mouth leaving a wet spot on Dean's cheek.

“I will ride you even harder,” Dean retorted, the words feeling new on his tongue.

They stumbled upstairs and fell onto Dean's bed, Crowley's weight pressing the younger man into the mattress. Every inch of Dean's skin covered with the other's, their sweat mingling, heavy breaths being swallowed up by hard-lipped kisses.

Dean longed for Crowley's touch, arching into him. There was nothing soft about Crowley and Dean loved it.

Moans were followed by even more moans. Crowley's teeth teasing Dean's nipples, biting down hard. Dean nuzzling his face in Crowley's pit, licking and sucking. He knew his dick was leaking with pre-cum right now, but except for Crowley's thick leg pressed up against it, the other man didn't as much as touch it. Instead he worked his way around it, propping Dean's legs over his shoulders.

Dean's hole was now presented for him on a silver platter, waiting to be devoured. “You look so good right now,” Crowley growled, his fingertips digging harder into Dean's thighs. There will be bruises tomorrow but instead of feeling ashamed Dean felt excited about it, hoping to find at least one proof that what is happening in that moment is real.

Crowley sinks down the bed, his face only inches away from Dean's hole, warm breath making Dean clench his hole in response. That alone felt fucking great, what would happen when- holy fucking, sonofabitch it felt amazing. With every lick and every thrust and lap of Crowley's tongue on his hole, Dean's brain melts into an even bigger puddle.

The older man sucked and kissed at the rim, pushing his tongue forward. Sounds Dean wasn't aware he could make were tickled out of him by Crowley's skilled tongue. It felt so fantastic, Dean didn't notice that Crowley grabbed a bottle of lube standing on Dean's nightstand, or that he was putting it on his fingers, but when Crowley started to put them inside, he _definitely_ noticed.

Dean squirmed and whimpered, his brain telling him to draw back but Dean ending up pushing down, taking the fingers even deeper as Crowley.

Dean fisted Crowley's hair, keeping his mouth in place, making Crowley finger and lick him simultaneously.

At that point, all Dean managed to say was Crowley's name and a good mix of fucks, goddamns and sons of bitches. “Fuck, Crowley, I need you. Now,” Dean begged. He _begged._ Dean never had to beg for anything before. Crowley was kind enough to comply though, pulling down his own briefs, not even bothering to take them off properly.

They got tested together a week ago, and both results came back negative for any STD's so Dean didn't press for a condom.

The tip alone felt big at his entrance. Dean's gasps and groans turned louder by the inch, his hands pulling Crowley closer, deeper. Their kiss was sloppy, their mouths barely connecting. All that mattered was Crowley, thrusting, cursing Dean's name, his strong arms wrapped tightly around Dean. Dean himself holding his ass cheeks apart, letting Crowley in even deeper, his cock hitting the back of him.

He felt the sweet release come when Crowley first touch his dick. The other man wrapped his fingers around the shaft and with a few expert thrusts and jerks Dean was spilling his seed all over himself, grunting and spasming. He was soon followed by Crowley. One long groan escaped the British man as he filled Dean's hole up, warm cum already trickling down to the base of his own cock.

Sex was filling the air. Dean felt breathless yet it also felt like he was finally _breathing_ for the first time in a while. He kissed Crowley's damp hair, and closed his eyes, listening to the other man's slowing breath.

 

 

Maybe it was still the honeymoon-period-esque feeling, or the rediscovery of how fucking incredible sex can feel like, but after their first night together Crowley and Dean did it every chance they got, like two horny teenagers hitting puberty.

A hot fling in the bathroom of an upscale restaurant Crowley was paying for, make out sessions on Crowley's desk. That one time they even drove all the way out of the city to a small lake Dean and Jo used to come to years ago. They skinny-dipped and then fucked under the open sky. It was way too cold for that but because it was Crowley, Dean didn't care. That's probably why he agreed to get fucked in the police car – thus breaking the only rule Gabe and him set up back when they started working as partners.

“Are you sure nobody can see us?,” Crowley whispered, tugging at Dean's earlobe with his teeth. His elbow was squeezing on some of Dean's intestines, and Dean's left arm was starting to go numb. Two grown men trying to fit in the backseat of a police car is just as easy as it sounds. Meaning, it's not. But Crowley had this fantasy ever since he was picked up for shoplifting in his good old, British delinquent days.   
Dean tugged at his pants, trying to pull them down enough for Crowley to put it in. “I'm sure.”  
“What a bummer.”

There was little foreplay. Sometimes it's the way Dean wanted it to be. Just a hot, hard fuck. Give and receive. And holy shit did he love receiving. Although giving didn't feel half as bad either, which is why he ended up wearing his uniform and getting fucked by Crowley in the police car, parked somewhere in a dark parking lot in the first place.

Dean was ripping the foam of the leather seats to shreds, already feeling the climax coming on when a sudden knock on the window made his heart jump up to his throat. “Fuck,” he snapped, adjusting himself and failing miserably. “Crowley, just- fuck, get off.” The knocking intensified. Dean pushed Crowley off rather harshly, making the other man hit his head on the ceiling of the car. “Bloody hell.”  
Somehow Dean managed to sit up straight. The bulge was still very much there and his shirt was more than half open but everything that needed covering was. He opened the door, just to find Gabe placed right in front of him, arms crossed, eyebrows cocked. From the looks of it he was already talking before Dean got out, “- can't believe that you would-”

“Gabe, I can explain,” Dean started but Gabe put a hand over his mouth. Then he pulled a face, realising he can't know where that mouth has been only moments ago.

“We went through this a million times, Winchester. Don't shit where yo-”

“-where you eat,” Dean finished with him.

“Exactly. I did the Find My Friends thing, with my phone, right? Wanted to bring you soup but no one was home. And I find this!,” he made an over dramatic gesture at the car, “I would say this is the most embarrassing thing I caught you in flagrante but there's also that time you were rapping along to Nicki Minaj's verse in Monster-”  
Dean was getting ready to object but Gabe put a finger over his partner's lips, the disgust from before not even showing. “Deano, you knew it by heart.”

Laughter burst out from the police car.

“Hey, quit it!”

“I'm sorry, darling. It's just- please show me when we get home,” Crowley said, getting out of the car. There was no indication whatsoever that he was naked and thrusting his dick inside of Dean only moments ago. How the hell does he do it?

“Hey, you're the guy from _Shakr_ ,” Gabe observed. He clapped Dean on the shoulder approvingly. He offered to shake Crowley's hand, too.  
“I would gladly, but you'd probably I'd rather not.”

Gabe grimaced, pulling his hand away again. “I've probably touched worse things that came out of Dean's body.”  
Dean groaned. “Can you _not_? Seriously, you're like a set of embarrassing parents I never had.”

“I'm just doing what they pay me for. Comic relief and messing with the Winchester's.”

 


	7. Trick or Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely comments and all the kudos. It really makes my day!
> 
> ***
> 
> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need a AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos on a fic you liked!

“What have I done to deserve breakfast in bed?”

Dean's voice was still raspy and his hair was sticking in every direction. Crowley told Dean he finds it rather charming to see that Dean doesn't wake up looking like the perfect specimen he is. Dean told him to shut up.

Smells of freshly made bacon, toast and a cup of joe filled the room as Crowley put down the tray on his spot on the bed. He kissed Dean on the mouth even though neither of them had brushed their teeth yet – something Dean read as a sign of the progression of their relationship. He still didn't fart in front of Crowley, though. Some things are better kept to themselves.

“I reckon the thing you did last night, you know with your tongue?”

Dean hummed around the cup approvingly.

“That's reason enough to shower you with gifts and breakfast foods every single day,” Crowley chuckled. “Besides, today is one of your favourite 'holidays'.”

It took Dean a minute to realize Crowley was talking about Halloween. It was Halloween!

Jo, Sam and he used to pick out matching costumes every single year, even after they were way too old to Trick or Treat. One time they dressed up as Leia, Han and Chewbacca – Chewbacca being the obvious choice. Sammy fit into the costume perfectly, even though he was complaining about the heat throughout the whole party and ended up taking off the head. After that they were only Han, Leia and the Hairy Man.  
Dean was the one in a white robe and two weaved in buns. God damn Jo for beating him to the Han get-up. At least he was so shitfaced that night it wasn't even half as embarrassing. When Dean told Crowley that story, the man mused that the night might've gone into a completely different direction had they picked out the slave Leia costume. The thought alone send a shiver down Dean's spine.

Dean placed the strip of bacon on the toast and bit into it, moaning around the piece of food contently. “That's good,” he said, spitting crumbs all over the duvet.

“I'd love to stay at home, scare the shit out of some kids but I got to head back to the office tonight. Have a meeting with the other party, discussing a deal outside the court. Maybe finish this bollocks before it drags on for a few more weeks.”

“Fafs okay-” Dean wanted to speak but decided to swallow the chunk before he continued, “I promised Gabe to go on patrol with him anyway. You know how some of them kids get.”

Crowley crouched next to the bed, his hand hovering over Dean's morning wood. “Well, then I suppose we should make the most of our time right now?” His grip tightened, making Dean almost choke on the bite he just took.

“You son of a bitch,” Dean grinned. He put the tray on the nightstand to make sure they don't end up rolling around in grease and hot coffee. “I guess you're right.”

 

*

It was around 9 p.m. Dean and Gabe were out in the suburbs, way too close to Novak's for Dean's liking, but over the couple of years some teens thought it was fun to throw fire-crackers into mailboxes or pull some other shit that ends up with a call to the police. This year they decided to be pro-active.

“Is that an Ant-Man costume?”

“ _Some_ of us just know how to Halloween, Deano.”

Okay, compared to Gabe's detailed replica of Ant-Man, helm and all included, Dean's dinosaur onesie looked like a cheap, last-minute choice. Which was exactly what it was. In fact he picked it up on the drive to Gabe's.  
“Well, _some_ of us just know how to budget.”

“Go big or go home,” Gabe grinned, taking a sip of his hot cocoa.

“How much did this thing cost you?”

Gabe's hand stopped mid-air. He mumbled something Dean didn't quite make out.

“What?”  
“Two hundred, okay?”

Dean winced. “On the bright side, the name suits you. You can ask Rufus, maybe he'll allow to replace your uniform with that thing. Seattle will get itself a new vigilante.”

Gabe shot him an icy glare.“ _Ha ha,_ make fun of the little guy. Very original. Douche.”

A few Harry Potter's, Rey's and a group of yellow-painted Minion kids had already knocked on their windows demanding candy. Gabe involuntarily shared some of his mini-bars and lollypops. They were lucky they had come around early. Dean wasn't sure how long he could fight off Gabe from devouring all of it himself.

“We going to the party later?”, Gabe asked, closing the window after the zombie limped away from the car.

“There's a party?”

“Meg invited us over to her's- said some of the guys from the precinct will be there. Might be fun.”

If Dean was honest he was hoping to get home early, hope that Crowley's home by then and maybe pop in a movie. (God he was getting old.) But the two of them hadn't made any further plans. Crowley had to run out pretty soon after they were done fooling around and Dean's phone was dead. “Eh, why not.”

Dean jumped up from his seat, the knock on the window startling him. Even Gabe jerked.

“Holy shit kid, you scared the-- Claire?”

“Hey Dean,” she waved, the ripped white sleeve hanging from her arm. Her hair was pulled up with white and black stripes sprayed into it. “Nice onesie.”

“Thanks. Nice- ghost costume?”  
“Frankenstein's wife, actually. Wanted to do something old-school this year.”

“As a young lady should,” Dean mused. “But aren't you a bit old for trick or treating?”

“Thought I am 9,” she joked, referring to her birthday party. God, that seemed so long ago. “I’m on my way to a party, saw you sitting here and thought to drop by.”  
Dean grabbed two whole Snickers bars out of the glove boxes – raising a groan from Gabe – and handed them to Claire. “Well, here's a snack fo-”  
“Dude I was saving them up,” Gabe protested. He had been staring at his phone and only just noticed Claire. Dean glared at him. “Not even gonna budge for a kid?”

Claire crouched down to see who was depriving her off the sweet-peanut-y goodness. Her eyes got wide when she saw Gabe. Dean figured it was the costume. He had that same look on his face when he got into the car. “Uncle Gabe?”

Dean looked back and forth between Gabe and Claire, both of their facial expressions changing. Gabe went from furrowed brows to confused wonderment to understanding of what's happening. For Dean this all took a bit longer to process. _Did she just call him_ uncle _?_

Nobody said anything. Until Gabe stammered out a response. “R-right, Claire. Wow, you've grown so much.”

She rolled her eyes. A teenagers go-to response. (and Jo's.)  
“She's probably taller than her uncle,” Dean joked. Gabe jabbed him in the ribs to shut him up.

Awkward silence seemed to creep back in, but thank god, Claire's friend came up to her, telling her they need to get going if they want to get there on time. So she said her goodbye's, thanked Dean for the candy and was gone.

Dean left the car windows open, the brisk autumn air cooling the tension in the car. Dean didn't know what to say. He had to say something, he knew that much, but what? If Gabe's Claire's uncle then he's either Cas' or Amy's brother. If Dean were religious he'd pray to God it was Amy.

“So,” Dean eventually said at the same time Gabe said, “You slept with my brother?”

Crap.

“To be fair, I didn't even know you had a brother. For all the talking we do you sure are an enigma, Gabe. You two don't even share a last name!” The last sentence came out as a shout. For some reason Dean felt obliged to defend himself, even though Gabe's tone was normal. Indifferent even. Maybe it was the sudden guilt that came with the realization. The thing with Cas fucked up a lot for Dean and he didn't want it to screw up what he had with Gabe either. But instead of driving himself crazy he let Gabe talk.

Gabe took a long sip, stalling, before he put the now-empty cup between his legs. “I have a brother. Big surprise.”  
“It is, actually. I feel like I'm in a bad telenovela right now. Best friend sleeps with best friends brother because he didn't know it was his best friend's brother.”

“Well, you never asked.”  
Dean huffed.  
“Besides, he went to boarding school and basically never came back.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. I mean, our dad's an asshole. We practically lived in an after-school special but we had eachother. Until Cas packed up his things one day and just flat-out left us. Dad was a drunk and beat us up if he felt like it-” Gabe's voice wavered. He wasn't looking at Dean anymore but only staring into the cup, like he was living through those times again. Dean felt like an asshole for making him go through this again, but before he could say anything Gabe continued. “I don't know why Cas left. He only came back once to visit when Anna went bad. Then I moved out. And we haven't seen eachother since. I only know Claire from photos he sent to Anna.” Gabe wiped at his eyes and looked back up. He was smiling his usual smile but Dean knew when that smile was genuine and when...

“I'm sorry. God, Gabe I'm- god dammit,” Dean snapped, punching the steering wheel. So now Cas not only hurt him. He also hurt one of the only people Dean really cared for. “You know what? Let's go to Meg's. That cocoa of yours needs some spicing up.”

 

*

Cas winced as he was thrown on the desk, days worth of paperwork and stacks of folders tumbling to the floor as his body was sprawled over it. The light from the lamp over his desk burned bright in his eyes, dizzying him. _How did it come to this?_

A set of firm hands ran up his thighs, only stopping to unhook the strap of his watch from the fabric of the suit pants. Cas growing bulge throbbed hard, pushing against the zipper, wanting to be freed, touched. He gasped when a wet, hot mouth finally wrapped around it, sucking at the pants, leaving behind a wet spot.

Cas draped an arm over his eyes, shielding himself from the light, focusing on the sensations. He heard the unbuckling of his belt and only raised his hips to allow the other to take off his pants. The wooden desk felt cold to the touch and made him shiver. _This is so wrong._

The same hands that were running up his thighs only moments before were now wrapped around his shaft, tugging at it, only to be joined by a set of lips. Soft moans and little groans escaped him as his dick was fully inside of the other's mouth. The scrape of teeth, a nip at the slit, the twist of tongue- he missed it so much. He needed it so much.

He fisted the other man's hair with his free hand, pulling him away from his cock so Cas could turn around. The image of himself, bend over on four knees on his desk flashed before his eyes, and again he was reminded how wrong this was. That he should stop it right now. But as soon as the other man started sucking and licking at his hole all of Cas inhibitions melted away, as he slumped onto the desk. He was breathing hard, chest pressed against the wooden surface, hands spreading his cheeks further apart so the other could lap his tongue inside further, deeper. His skin tingled and burned from the other man's scruff, and made his dick throb with every move of his chin.

When Cas looked down he saw that he was leaking, pre-cum dropping onto a file he had to sign off today. He knew he'll have to find an excuse when this is over but right now he wished it would never end. Two fingers slipped inside of him, with such ease it made the other man groan and Cas groaned with him.

All of this was so familiar to Cas, so known. He pushed back, taking in the fingers until the knuckles, begging for just one more.

“Shh,” was all the other man said, taking out his fingers.

He wrapped his arms around Cas, the white fabric of his shirt soaking up some of Cas pre-cum, and pulled him back to the floor, just to bend him over the desk again.

There was little to no preparation, no soft words or kisses, just plain out, hot and rough fucking. Castiel felt used, but in a right way. Guilt washed over him but was subsided by pleasure. He missed this. He missed _him._ Crowley felt familiar, his cock deep inside of him, the weight of his body pressing him onto the desk. They did this for so many years through law school Cas lost count. They worked. They made it work. Until Amy didn't let it.

But now he was free. And Crowley was pulling his hair, his thrusts picking up, until he stops, letting out a low groan and pulling out quickly enough to come on Cas' back.

The warm line of cum burned on Cas skin and it didn't take him long to come as well, a spray of white shooting against the black wooden desk.

He was breathing hard, sore. A part of Cas wished Crowley would stay, but the other man was already tugging his cock back in. “This was-”

“- a mistake?,” Cas finished.  
“Amazing was the word I thought was fitting, but if you say so.”

Cas tried to stand up just to find his knees give in. Instead he propped himself up on his elbows, facing Crowley. The other man's hair was a mess, and there was a stain on his shirt he managed to cover with his suit jacket. He smiled at Cas the same old smile he gave him back when. They were so young, Cas remembered. The man who was standing before him now only showed him that they were only boys then. “What does this mean?” Cas eventually said. “For us.”

“Hopefully that we can work out some more cases like this.”

Cas chuckled.

Crowley fixed his tie in the mirror, ready to leave. That's when Cas asked him to stay. He didn't mean to but before he knew the words were coming out and then it was over. And Crowley stayed. Which gave him hope that maybe this wasn't so wrong after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite sure how to go from here but I have some ideas *chuckles wickedly*.


	8. What Life Throws At Ya'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need a AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos on a fic you liked!

_His father was standing over him, snarling. The usual stench of alcohol and sweat chocked Cas as he was lying on the floor, head pounding with every beat of his heart. He knew he had to get up. He wanted to get up, but before he even set foot to the ground, his dad's fist hit the socket of his eye and Cas went back down._

_It was so hot that day. The asphalt was burning at his skin where his shirt hiked up. He was crying, yelling at his father to stop, but he was soon shut up with a kick to the ribs, accompanied by a nasty cracking sound. Castiel opened his eyes, even though only one of them did. He saw his dad's lips move, insulting him. Every 'faggot' and 'bitch' with the intention to hurt him, but at this point Cas was already numb. He closed his eyes again. And prayed._

When he opened his eyes, Cas saw that it was way past morning, the gray of fall shining through the window. A shimmer of hope made him believe Crowley would be there beside him when he woke up, but to his disappointment there was no one else in his office. There was a fresh cup of coffee sitting on his desk with a sticky note on it, though.

Canceled _your appointments. Figured you'd need a break. Call if you need something_

_\- Cheryll_

God bless her soul. Castiel's head was pounding and the last thing he needed right now were some whiny clients. Crowley and him stayed up til late, talking (well, mostly talking) and he only got a few hours of sleep, so there was nothing nicer than feeling the burn of fresh coffee on his tongue. Wakes you right up.

A few bones in his back cracked when he stood up, walking over to the window. It was cloudy that day, the sky a white and gray-ish canvas. Cas tried to think about last night and what it meant for him but it was hard to come to a conclusion.

Yes, they had sex and yes, it was the best thing he felt since- well, since Dean. But Cas always thought that the chapter with Crowley was way in the past. In fact, he learned to despise him because Crowley left him back in college the minute things got complicated. When he first heard they'd work on this case, Cas made it his personal plan to ruin Crowley and finally stick it to him, but when they got to talking- let's just say it wasn't one of Castiel's proudest moments.

At least his client got away with more than half of her husband's money, most of their estates and gave him a discount for any trips to their resorts in Maui. Not that Cas will ever find the time to go there.

As soon as their clients had left, Cas went into defense mode and failed. They yelled at eachother, got some of the anger he harboured for all those years off his chest, and then some more by making out etc. etc.

Cas sighed, slumping back on the couch, defeated. This was a mess. But at least he had Crowley's number. Maybe it'd be easier to figure this out together. Unless the man didn't want to figure it out. What if that's why he left Cas alone that morning, like one would after a random hook-up.

All those questions were nagging at Castiel, so instead of driving himself crazy, he whipped out his phone to dial.

_Missed calls: Claire (8)_

_Texts: Claire (5)_

Uh-oh. A bitter taste filled Cas' mouth. Something was wrong, he could feel it. He skimmed the texts, then tried to call Claire back but it went straight to voice mail. Amy...

“Hi, what's up?”

“Amy, did s-”

“Gotcha! This is my voicemail. Leave a message after the” _Beep-_

Cas cursed, grabbed the keys and ran out of the office. The last call he got was from an hour ago.

_Oh god, please don't let anything bad happen to them._

He ran down the street to his parking space and got into his car, ready to drive. Where? Where would he drive? He had no idea what the hell happened, and something told him that driving out to the suburbs would be a waste of time. So instead, he did the only other thing that came to mind and called a friend at the police station. Maybe they'd know more.

“Novak, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me when I'm working?”

“Rufus, i- it's my kid, I don't know what's going on, can you check if-,” Castiel was babbling. He felt his throat tightening with every word, worst-case scenarios playing out in his head.

“Calm down, boy. I'll put you through.”

_Beep – beep – bee-_

“Seattle PD, Gabe Milton speaking.”

Castiel almost dropped his phone. He hasn't heard his baby brother's voice in so long, he couldn't believe it was really him.

“Okay, if that’s another prank call I-”

“Gabe,” his brother's name felt so alien on his lips, “I need you to check any emergency calls from Novak's.”

There was a short silence on the other end of the phone, before Gabe continued. “Just wait a second, Sir, let me-” Castiel heard Gabe draw in a sharp breath. _Oh no._ “Sir, there was a 911 call. A woman fainted in the backyard. Her kid called b- wait, Cas, is that you?”

“What hospital?”

“Excuse me?”

Cas punched the dashboard out of frustration. “What hospital did they bring Amy to?”

A short pause. “Grey Sloan.”

“Thanks,” Castiel said and hung up. Gabe will probably hate him for it but that's just one small thing on a long list and the family he still has left was more important to him now. So he pushed on the gas, rushing through early traffic, hoping that whatever it is, he's not too late.

 

*

 

“You're late,” Dean grumbled into his pillow. His head felt like his brain was about to off itself. Never drinking a drop of Tequilla again. That's his new early-New Year's Resolution. Not even if he'd get a lap dance from Meg for it. Or Crowley. On the other hand...

“I'm sorry, darling, I had some early errands that needed my attention.”

“Add me to the list, then.”

Dean felt the mattress give in next to him, followed by a soft peck on his damp hair. “Already on it.”

Crowley kissed his way down. One on the back of Dean's neck, making Dean arch his back up at the tingling sensation, one between his shoulder blades, one at the lower back- until Dean smacked him away before he could pull down the hem of his boxers, raising a yelp from Crowley.

“Really hungover,” Dean explained, raising his head a bit so Crowley would hear. His alarm clock read 1 p.m. Thank God he took the day off.

“I understand,” Crowley mumbled against Dean's back, tongue brushing over the soft skin. “Want to grab some lunch?”

Dean rolled over to look at his boyfriend. The bright sunshine made his head pound but looking at Crowley made it just a little bit more bearable. His hair was in place, shirt impeccable, generally not looking like someone who's just spend a whole night working _and_ woke up early in the morning like a normal, functioning member of society.

Fuck, Dean was falling for him. Hell, he was in love.

When this happened, he had no idea. Maybe it was around the time Crowley knew when to bring him cherry pie without Dean having to tell him, or in-between all the soft kisses and dirty promises Crowley kept making. Whenever it was, Dean was pretty sure it was the real thing. He hasn't felt like this since Lisa. But that's not something he was ready to share with Crowley. Or anyone else. Yet.

Okay, that might be a lie. He was dying to tell Jo all about it but they hadn't really have a chance to talk it out ever since he snapped at her about Cas. And Sammy, well, he was his little brother and Sam assured him Dean could come to him with whatever, but Dean was pretty sure it made things as awkward for Sammy as it did for him.

That only left Gabe but he was busy with his own crap. Meeting his niece for the first time in real life can do that to someone. Poor guy has been babbling on about it all night and a part of Dean felt obligated to help Gabe out with it, but for now he filed it for later and focused on what was right in front of him. He took Crowley's hand and kissed the top of it. “Sure, babe. Just let me get dressed first.”

Dean felt Crowley's eyes following his every move, so he made it a show, sticking out his ass and prancing around.

“You sure you can't handle it right now?,” Crowley asked, licking his lips. He unbuttoned the top button and there was a bulge already growing in his pants.

Dean pressed his knee against it as he leaned over to kiss him. “I'll make it up to you tonight.”

Crowley groaned softly but didn't object.

Only on their way down did Dean realise that Crowley woke him up in bed, even though no one was there to let him in, but before he could even ask the question he saw the answer. Two huge, black suitcases were stacked on top of eachother, propped against the wall. A short red-head rested her elbows on them, tapping away on her phone.  
“Uh, hello? Who are-”

“Hey, I'm Charlie. Handsome, short hair- you must be Dean. Nice to meet you,” she said, sticking her hand out. Dean shook it cautiously. “And you are?”

“Crowley, a pleasure to meet you.”  
“Ooh, British. Sounds fancy. Jo probably hasn't told you much about me.”

Dean chuckled. “Well, she hasn't told me much about anything lately. But neither did I. Sorry for asking but what are you doing here, exactly?”

“Jo asked me to come with her. Meet the family and all that,” Charlie explained, walking around the bar. She was holding the same picture Crowley took from the wall back when he first came here. “It's a nice place.”

“And Jo is-?”

“Upstairs,” Crowley and Charlie said at the same time.

Dean shot Crowley a hurt look. “You knew?”

“You can stay if you want, Dean. Talk.”

Dean shook his head. A: he had already made plans with his boyfriend and B: if there's a chance to drag out the inevitable he sure as hell will take it. “No, 's okay. Charlie, can you tell her we can talk tonight?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, busy looking at the liquor shelf, inspecting a bottle of whiskey. Dean might still be angry at Jo but damn, that girl had taste.

Neither Crowley nor him talked much on the drive down. Dean kept thinking about Jo, and felt guilty for leaving her yet again.

They ordered the usual: Dean took their special burger with extra cheese and Crowley had his veggie version of the same. When they came here the for the first time, Crowley told Dean he needed to watch his pounds, leading to Dean trying to convince him how much he loves every single flab on Crowley. Now they sat there in silence.

Dean looked up from the menu – yes, he still read the menu every time they came here – he saw that Crowley was frowning. His leg was jumping up and down as well.

“What's wrong?,” Dean asked, putting away the menu. Crowley looked up at him and must've seen the worry in Dean's eyes because he smiled.

“Nothing... Actually, there is something.”

Dean drew in a sharp breath. Hardly anything good ever follows after that sentence.

“You know that I love you-”

Dean's heart skipped a beat. Maybe this wasn't going to be that bad after all. “Actually, you never said that.”

“Figured it's something that goes without saying. Besides, Winchester, you weren't so generous with those words, either.”

Dean smiled around the rim of his glass. “What makes you so sure I _do_ love you?”

“Come on, you're madly in love with me.”

“I am,” Dean admitted, faintly. “What’s the thing you wanted to tell me?”

Crowley shifted in his seat uncomfortably, taking off his jacket. “I- that's- fuck. I love you, Dean. I really fucking love you.” Dean felt the red creep into his cheeks. To see Crowley stammer like that, professing his love to him was- “But I slept with someone else. And it was a mistake. And-”  
“What the fuck. I,” Dean was lost for words. In the end he was right. There can't ever be a good ending to a sentence starting with 'I need to tell you something'. Believing that him and Crowley might be an exception was foolish. The butterflies in his stomach he felt a moment ago were being eaten away by the acid. Dean knew he should just stand up and go but there was just no energy left in him. He felt defeated.

“Listen, I love you,” Crowley said again but Dean interrupted him. “Bullshit, Crowley. Bullshit!”

A couple sitting at the next table glanced at him. Dean wanted to yell at them, tell them to fuck off and mind their own business, go to hell and everything else he wished he could throw at Crowley's head, but he kept quiet.

“It's just that I realised I also love the other person. It wasn't fucking planned, Dean. We just- we have history, you know?” Crowley buried his face in his hands, running them through his hair. A young waitress brought them their burgers but Dean lost his appetite.  
“Who was it?,” Dean asked, staring at his plate. He decided to figure it out. He loved Crowley, even if, in that moment, every fiber of his body wished he wouldn't.

“You probably don't know-”  
“Who. Is. It?”

“We were a couple back in law school. He lives and works in Seattle, somewhere in the suburbs I think-” Dean didn't need to hear any more to know who Crowley was talking about. It's like every word he said was a puzzle piece, slowly falling into place and by the time Crowley was coming to an end Dean said. “Castiel.”

A look of surprise flashed through Crowley's face, soon followed by one of understanding. “He was the guy you told me about. Your first...”

“Yeah.”

When Dean took the first bite of his burger, the meat was already cold. It barely passed his esophagus, and it almost came back up again. The two of them sat there in silence, looking everywhere but at eachother, guilt and shame hanging over them like a dark cloud. Outside a thunderstorm was coming up.

 

*

 

Cas sat in the waiting room filling out some forms. No matter where he went, the paperwork just seemed to follow him. His eyes hurt from the light but Claire came to the rescue with a fresh cup of coffee.

When he had gotten to the hospital, Amy was already in the OR. The nice doctor he talked with explained to him that there appeared to be a brain bleed, he didn't bother with technicalities. She said they weren't able to wait and she had to operated immediately. Then she continued by saying that they will try their best to save Amy's life but Cas knew that was just something people say to make you feel better without actually meaning it. He said it so often himself that the words lost meaning to him.

What he worried about the most was Claire. She didn't speak. Or cry. She just sat there next to him, staring at the same page of a magazine for minutes. Cas wanted to hug her and hold her tight but she didn't want that.

The two of them sat there for minutes, hours, who knew how long. Counting the tiles, looking through the forms again and again, trying to distract himself. Amy was being taken care of, and he couldn't do much help. Except to pray.

He took Claire by the hand and they walked over to the hospital's chapel. A Latino woman was sitting in the last pew, head rested on her clasped hands.

Both Cas and Claire lit a candle and then knelt down as well. He went through the motions, said the prayers and begged. For Amy to survive this. For Claire to make it through. For them to be okay again, although he was aware that this was out of his hands.

Eventually, they sat down, looking into the flickering flames. It was so quiet that even Claire's whisper felt like it boomed through the room. “Is mom going to die?”

Castiel's mouth went dry. He didn't know what to say, but he knew he had to say something. “No,” was all that came out. Then he added, “She's not. We'll take her home.”

When he looked in his daughter's eyes, he saw the pain she was desperately hiding away. “It's okay,” he whispered, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. That's when her sobs rang through the chapel, muffled by Castiel's arm.

After another hour or so, the same doctor that filled him in came back out. She must've been damn good at poker because he couldn't read her face at all. But he figured it had to go well. She wouldn't look so... normal, if it didn't, right?

“Mr. Novak,” she started, and Cas held his breath. The blood was rushing through his ears. He wasn't ready. “The operation went well.”

Castiel sighed, relieved. _She's going to be alright._

“We did come across some complications but Doctor Shepherd managed to contain the bleed. There was something else, though-,” the young doctor looked at Claire standing next to Cas, and he understood. Whatever came next, Claire should probably not hear it right now.

“Claire, honey, would you mind getting me another coffee? I'm beat.”

Claire shrugged, and slowly made her way down the hall, leaving Castiel and Doctor Edwards alone.

“We found a tumor.” There it is. The other shoe dropped. “Doctor Shepherd will come up with a plan. To be honest, it's difficult to access from where it's located but if anyone can do it, she can.”

“Can- Can I see her?”

“It's best to give her some rest right now. We will call you when she wakes up. Maybe it's best if you take your daughter home first,” Edwards offered, smiling apologetically at Cas before walking away.

She was probably right. Cas grabbed his jacket and met Claire halfway. She was holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a bag of Sour Patch Kids in the other. “I figured you'd want some.”

Cas smiled. “Thanks. We're going home.”

“What about mom?”

“Doctor Edwards will call us as soon as she wakes up. It can take a while.”

They walked to the car. Neither of them turned on the radio. When they got home, everything felt so quiet. An eerie kind of quiet, usually accompanied by death. But Cas didn't let himself lose hope.

He ordered in a pizza, even though Claire didn't even touch a slice, and when the end credits rolled he realised he hadn't been paying attention to the movie at all. Claire dozed off somewhere around the middle as well.

Her blond hair fell over her cheek, catching at the corner of her mouth. The black eyeliner she sported so well was smudged at the corner. She looked so peaceful, it made Cas' heart ache.

Carefully, he put a pillow under her head and walked to the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water.

There was still no phone call. He checked twice in the last five minutes. He thought about calling them, or calling Crowley, or someone he could talk to about this. Crowley knew Amy, even if only in passing and, by the end, not on good terms, but he might understand.

Cas decided to text him.

_Hey. Have a minute to talk? - 4.29 p.m_

_Cas, I'm busy. Maybe later? - 4.32 p.m_

Cas dropped the phone on the counter. He was about to pour himself another glass of water when a knock on the door startled him. Probably one of the nosy neighbor's trying to obtain some secret intel into the oh-so interesting affairs of the Novak' household. He hated all of them.

The person who actually stood behind the door was that much more of a surprise. Castiel hasn't seen Gabe in so long, that having him stand right in front of him seemed like yet another surreal thing life would throw at him.

Gabe cleared his throat, putting up a plastic bag into view. It was Chinese food from Mu Ling’s, downtown.  
“Can I come in? I come in peace.” For a moment there, Cas didn't know what to say, standing there dumb-founded. “Or I can just drop off the food for Claire and get out of here?”

“Uh, no. Stay. Come in.”

Gabe walked past him, whistling when he saw the inside of the house. “Fancy.”

Cas laughed, nervously, closing the door.

 

*

 

Dean parked the Impala in the driveway. The keys were still in the ignition and the engine still roared. His head was rested on the the steering wheel, eyes closed shut.

Dean didn't know what to do. His emotions were pulling on him from every side, making his brain buzz. Throughout the whole drive he didn't dare to think a word, blaring the radio to shut everything out, but now that everything was silent and he was alone, it all came flooding back.

How could Crowley do this to him? Did he not love him? Was Dean not enough? No. He knew this wasn't the case. Crowley just didn't love Dean, only. He also loved Cas.

Dean cursed under his breath, slamming a fist on the dashboard. If he weren't so in love with Crowley he'd drop him just like that but instead he called for a break. Said he needed some time to think things through. But what was there to think through? Crowley cheated on him with the person who cheated on someone else _with_ Dean. Fuck. Dean missed the good old days when everyone left him alone and things weren't complicated.

A knock on the door scared the crap out of Dean, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was Jo.

Dean leaned over to her side and opened the door for her. “Get in.”

She sat down. Her hair was shorter than when she left, Dean noticed. She looked less tired than last time as well, and generally more happy.

“So,” she started.

“I met Charlie,” Dean told her, resting his head against the seat. “Seems nice.”

“Sure is,” Jo said, smiling. “You wouldn't believe it. I heard you're not doing so bad either. Where's this Crowley Sammy can't shut up about?”

Dean winced. “Uh, we're kinda on a break.”

"Fuck, Dean I'm-"

Dean interrupted her, " 's okay it's kind of fresh."

"Can I ask what happened or is that a can of worms you'd rather stays closed?"

Dean looked straight ahead.

"Dean?"

"He slept with Cas."

Jo shifted in her seat. "Cas?," she sounded surprised. "How the hell does he know Cas?"

"They were together in college. Kind of, until Crowley ran away when things got complicated."

Jo said something under her breath Dean couldn't quite make out.

"What?"

"Amy. That's what I was trying to tell you when you went all Housewives of Atlanta on me."

"Sorry about that."

"It's fine. Anyway, Cas isn't cheating on anyone like you thought." Dean leaned his head to the side to look at Jo. "Him and Amy had some fucked up agreement that he'll stay with them on paper but they're separated long ago. Even their daughter knows."

Dean's mouth formed an O but he didn't say a word.

"But why didn't Cas say anything?"

"Dean hardly anyone dares speak to you when you give them the look."

"What look?"

"The I-wanna-murder-you-AND-I-have-a-gun look. Besides, Sam said he Cas came over here one night to drop off your jacket."

Dean cocked both his eyebrows in surprise. "He did?"

Back when the whole birthday party incident happened Dean swore himself he will never talk to Cas, and he ignored him when they went back to get the stuff with Jo, but some part of him hoped for- he didn't know what he had hoped for exactly. An explanation?

"So Cas didn't cheat on her?"

Jo shook her head. The look of pity she gave Dean was unbearable. "They're long done, Dean. He really liked you. Likes."

Jo grabbed her purse and dumped it's content on the dashboard. Lipstick, tissues, some change and headphones came clattering down with her phone. Dean winced when he saw the cracked screen, but Jo just typed away without paying any attention to it. The only thing she cared about was that it worked.

"Here," she said, handing Dean the phone.

It was open on a chat between Jo and Cas. Dean scrolled up and up and up. "Hell, Jo. How long have you been texting him?"

"Shortly after we picked up the bouncy castle."

Dean sucked in a breath. His eyes scanned through the messages.

_...I know I fucked up, but I want him back, Jo..._

_...He wasn’t home but his brother was there. I guess it's over now?..._

_...you're trying to help but im not sure its gonna go anywhere anymore. its been weeks jo..._

_...i'm sorry_

The last text was almost a month ago.

Dean locked the phone, sitting down on a chair. His head was spinning. Cas didn't cheat on Amy. He didn't lie to Dean. Of course he wouldn't have told Dean about Amy immediately, who would know Dean was working at their place that day?

It was all Dean's fault, he realised. Most of it anyway. Fuck.

"Fuck," he whispered out loud. "Fuck, Jo. What am I supposed to do now?"

"You still know where he lives. That'd be a start."

She was right.

He turned the key in the ignition. The motor roared back to life. Jo squeezed his arm, reassuringly. "Just do what you think is right."

She quickly packed up her stuff and got out of the car. As soon as she closed the door, Dean pulled out of the driveway, onto the main road, and drove downtown as quickly as state regulations allowed him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might go on a slight hiatus on this fic.   
> Reason numer one: I am currently writing 3 other fanfics I plan on posting throughout September-November so that takes a lot of time  
> Reason number two: I love this fic, and the guys, but right now I just feel like I can't fully concentrate on those characters and deliver my best work. So, don't worry, this is not gonna be one of many abandoned fics, I will definitely finish it, BUT I'm just warning y'all that it might not get updated for like 2-4 months.  
> Hope you guys understand and that you will find some other fics of mine interesting to read. (My inbox on dogphood.tumblr.com is always open for suggestions and prompts as well!)


	9. Work This Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic! Just a friendly reminder that you don't need a AO3 Account in order to leave Kudos on a fic you liked!

Dean tried to think of something he could say to Cas once he'd arrive at his apartment but he drew a blank. It has been months since they last saw eachother. And from Cas' point of view Dean was the asshole, right? He was the one who refused to talk to him for months, who didn't give Cas even the benefit of the doubt or a chance to explain himself. Dean wanted to kick his own ass for his stupidity, but maybe Castiel would do him that courtesy.

For now he figured saying sorry was the least thing he could do, and then they'd just see where it'd all go from there.

He took the stairs by twos, rushing up to the floor Cas lived on, that is if Dean remembered correctly (to be fair, the last time he was here he was either really drunk or in a hurry to get out).

Dark green door. The sheer memory of the last time he saw it - a sticky note stuck to it, and with it hope for more – made Dean's stomach flip and turn.

Dean knocked. Then he rang the bell. Twice. Nobody answered. Dean knocked again, shifting from one foot to the other, stopping himself from hitting too hard. His knuckles already came away red after the last one.

Still nothing.

“He's not here.” Crowley's voice send a shiver down Dean's spine, made him uncomfortable, for the first time ever.

Dean drew in a sharp breath, turning on his heels. “What are you doing here Crowley?,” he asked, already feeling dumb for doing so. Of course Dean knew what Crowley was doing there. He was there for the same reason Dean was, or a similar at least.

“Dean, I-”  
“If you say you're sorry _one_ more time, I swear to God I'm gonna punch you.”  
Crowley opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “He's at Amelia's house,” he explained, raising his phone. The screen shone brightly in the dim hall lighting, it was on a conversation between Crowley and Cas. “Can I hitch a ride? My Über just left.”

Dean grimaced. He wasn't quite sure what to make out of all of it.

“Apparently there was some accident, I'm not a hundred per cent sure what he was on about.”

Defeated, Dean mumbled. “Let's go then.”

He walked past Crowley, making sure not to touch him, or look at him even, lest his reserve would crumble and what would happen afterward, Dean was too scared to think about. The wound of betrayal cut deep and was fresh, but Crowley knew how to lick Dean's wounds.

The storm outside was subsiding, but the rain kept _tap-tap-tapping_ away on the roof of the car, each drop breaking the silence between Crowley and Dean. It reminded Dean of the restaurant, how they had sat there, looking at each other but also not quite. How Crowley hadn't known what to say and Dean hadn't wanted to say anything.

Every once in a while, Crowley did suck in a bout of breath, as if he was preparing himself to say something, but he always gave up on it mid-through. When Dean dared a quick glance between intersections, he saw Crowley staring down at the dark screen of his phone, anticipating. If it weren't for the driving he'd probably stare longer, wait until Crowley meets his gaze, but he never did.

“Jo told me what really happened with Cas,” Dean eventually said, deciding that they can't spend the whole drive without speaking a word. Making things right with Cas meant making things right with Crowley. He kept his eyes on the road, staring right at the small Corsa in front of them, but he could feel Crowley's eyes on him. “About Amelia. And what the two of them agreed on.”

Crowley winced. “It wasn't really a perfect arrangement, you have to admit. And in some way I'm at fault for that.”  
Dean couldn't help but to look at him, questioningly. Crowley's dark eyes met his and for a second, he could practically feel his heart jump up to his throat. Then he quickly looked back on the road.

“Like I said, Castiel and I have- history. I was his first serious boyfriend, if you want to call secret dates and quick lunch breaks a commitment. He was with Amelia at that time, too. Has been since High School, sweethearts and all.” Dean heard a slight undertone in Crowley's voice, but he kept to himself. “Eventually she came home earlier,” Crowley chuckled, “God, I felt like such a bloody cliché, getting thrown out with half of my clothes still in my arms. We were young and stupid. And frankly, I didn't feel like putting up with any of that mess.”  
“So you left? But didn't you,” Dean swallowed hard, “love him?”

“Sometimes you need to love yourself first if you really want to love somebody else. I needed something uncomplicated. Real. Castiel was all but that at that time.”

“Well, look at us now. I wouldn't count that as uncomplicated.”

They both laughed, bitterly. Up ahead cars were slowly starting to pick up the pace, with the weather finally clearing up. The sun was still hiding behind gray clouds but nevertheless, everything seemed that much brighter.

“Do you still love me Crowley?” Dean didn't know where this question came from. Only hours ago he was set on letting things go, on taking this break seriously. He was hurt, hurting. But he also loved. And when he felt the warmth of Crowley's hand on his thigh, squeezing it affectionately, he closed his eyes for just a second, remembering all the other times his boyfriend did that.

“Of course,” Crowley whispered. “I don't know how to explain it, but my feelings for Castiel don't make what I feel towards you mean any less.”  
“I think I might have some feelings for Castiel, too,” Dean admitted. “Not- love- Hell, I don't know the guy.”

“Well, you know _some_ of him,” Crowley offered.   
“And a great some it is, but I don't _know_ him. Not like I know you.”  
Crowley squeezed harder. “Well, we can change that.”

“I guess..”

Pulling up on the street next to the Novalk's house, Dean noticed a familiar red, run-down Honda parked in the driveway. “What is Gabe doing here?”  
“Gabe? As in Castiel's brother?”

“Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea, I-”

Crowley shut Dean up by putting a finger on the other one's lips. “It's going to be alright, Dean.”

For a moment Dean let himself believe it. For a moment he also forgot that Crowley and him were on a break, and he leaned forward, kissing familiar lips, waiting for them to kiss back. Soft and caring. “I love you,” Crowley murmured, thumb rubbing over the cleft of Dean's stubbly chin. “Now let's go inside.”

The walk from the Impala to the house was too short to give Dean any time to brace himself for all the possible outcomes. To come up with something to say or do. And so when Castiel eventually opened the door, smiling, Dean froze.

“Dean,” Cas said, smile faltering, “and Crowley?”  
Crowley stood right behind Dean, close enough for the man to feel his presence but far enough to leave Dean space. And space was something he was dying to have right now. His mind was running on high gears and when Gabe appeared behind Cas with pasta hanging from his mouth, Dean thought he might completely lose it. “What are you doing here?” The three of them said at the same time, with slightly different inclanations. Cas sounded annoyed, Dean wanted answers, and Gabe was probably just amused and slightly confused by this whole situation.

“I- We-”

“We came to talk to Cas,” Crowley finished for Dean, thank God.

Gabe locked eyes with Dean only to cock an eyebrow before moving his gaze to Crowley, looking the man up and down. Last time the two of them saw eachother was when Gabe caught Dean breaking their only police car sex rule. In the end, Gabe turned his head to Cas, waiting.

“It's fine, Gabe. You,” he said to Dean and Crowley, “can come in.”

“I'm just gonna grab Claire and carry her upstairs,” Gabe announced, leaving the room to let them talk.

It's been what felt like ages since Dean was back here. Everything was exactly the same, from the purple carpet to the DVD collection on one of the shelves. Still, with Amelia missing there was something not right about the whole house.

Dean agonized himself for weeks on end, debating if he should or should not come back here earlier, apologize to Amelia, only to remember that Cas and him were the ones who knew about their infidelity act, and that Amelia was oblivious to it all. Guilt has been eating away at him until he met Crowley and was made to forget.   
“Come, sit.” Cas gestured to the two stools at the kitchen counter. As he leaned over to grab two cups from the cupboard, his shirt hitched up, revealing some skin and the hem of his briefs. Dean swallowed hard, trying even harder not to look. Crowley, on the other hand, practically stared until Dean jabbed him to his side with his elbow.

“So,” the british man started, “what happened? Why are you-”

“I don't think you're the one who should ask the questions right now,” Cas said, setting the two cups down on the counter. He dumped two teabags in and poured hot water, steam rising up and up. Sighing, he pushed the Christmas mug with Reindeers on it to Dean and handed Crowley a plain black one. “But if you need to know, Amy had an accident. She's fine for now,” he added quickly before any of them could ask. “Gabe came over to talk. We're going back to the hospital tonight, when she's awake again. But let's just not- what are the two of you doing here?”

Dean took a sip, the water burning his tongue. He cleared his throat, thinking of something to say, before he stammered out, “I'm sorry.”

Cas looked at him, arms rested on the kitchen counter. His watch was ticking away, but other than that everyone stayed quiet, waiting for Dean to follow up. “I- I've been an asshole, to put it simply. I didn't give you a chance to explain, although you have to admit it looked pretty bad-” Cas scoffed, “But now I know most of it, and I came over to say I'm sorry for being a jerk. For screwing things up before they could even start.”

Cas looked at him for a while, staring right through him, before he closed his eyes and let his head sack in. A long, hard breath came out, before he said. “You really hurt me, Dean, you know that?”

“Of course he knows that,” Crowley chimed in, shifting his fingers around his cup nervously. “That's the whole point of this bloody visit. He likes you, idiot.”

“Is that true?”

Now both, Crowley and Cas were staring at Dean. His could-have-been and his can-still-be. Expecting an answer. “I love Crowley,” he started, “but that doesn't mean I didn't feel anything for you. _Don't_ feel anything for you. You have to understand, I've spend so much time hung up on you and then even more so resenting you for what you did.” He was looking into his cup now, too afraid to see how Cas might react. To look into Crowley's eyes. He hasn't been so open and honest with anyone in such a long time. “To find out that most of it was my own fault was heartbreaking. But it also couldn't erase all the time with Crowley. So when I heard that the two of you slept together- ”

Cas drew in a sharp breath, “I didn't know _what_ to think. I still love him.”

A heavy hand rested on Dean's shoulder, squeezing him affectionately. “I love you too, Dean.” Crowley looked at Cas, who was just standing there, listening. “But I also love you. From before. And now.”  
Cas laughed, bitterly. “Great. So now what? You,” he gestured towards Crowley, “left me as soon as things got hard, and now you're careening back into my life, expecting me to fall back into you only to what? Let myself get hurt by you?”

“Cas, I-”

Cas was on a roll, a boulder not to be stopped once pushed, “And you,” he pointed a finger at Dean, “you didn't even care to find out what happened. After we spent the night together I was finally ready for more. _You_ were supposed to be my more, Dean. Now I can't even have that.”

He sunk onto a chair behind the counter, face in his hands, “I don't know what the two of you expect me to say.”  
Crowley and Dean exchanged a look, and maybe Dean didn't know if that was really what was on Crowley's mind, but he was pretty sure their minds were set. He opened his mouth but it was Crowley who said the words. “We don't want you to say anything. We want _you_.”

“We want you to give us a chance.”

The look Cas gave them when he looked up was somewhere between confused and happy. “You want me to date the two of you? That's _ridiculous!_ ”

“Why?,” Crowley contered, holding his stand. “You love me, don't you?”

Cas looked away.

“And I'm sure you want to give Dean another chance. Half the time we weren't talking about our past or making out you were talking about 'that guy you slept with months ago'.”

Crowley wrapped his free hand around Cas. The other man didn't object. “I'm sure we can work this out. We can at least try. Cas,” Dean watched as Crowley exchanged a look- it looked sincere and full of love, and was therefore beautiful. Some might have even gotten jealous but Dean felt grateful to be able to, maybe, be a part of that. “Let's give Dean a chance.”  
“Fine,” Cas mumbled. “But before we do anything together, I want to go out with Dean alone. Talk things out in private.”  
“I'm down,” Dean said, hopeful.

“Fine by me,” Crowley said, smiling. “I just want all of us to get along and see how it goes.”  
“Is the rom-com moment over now?,” Gabe whispered from the stairs, “because I'm really bored with snooping through your stuff. It's not that great.”  
“Gabe, what the hell?,” Dean asked turning around.  
“What? I haven't seen him for god knows how many years, that's like the easiest way to catch up.”

Cas laughed at that, grabbing another cup and this time Dean oggled a little bit, just a little bit. “Green or black?”

“Green,” Gabe answered, wrapping an arm around Dean's shoulder, “So, Deano, you've found your way back to my brother.”

“ _We_ kind of did, yeah.”

Gabe raised both of his eyebrows, lookig at all three of them before grimacig. “Dude, what the hell. Isn't one sexed up old dude enough for you?”

“Hey!,” all three of them said, raising a finger at Gabe.  
“Just saying, if you can get it, get it. I'm happy for you Deano. And for the rest of you, I guess?”

He took a sip of his tea, almost dropping the mug at how hot it was. “Ouch, mh, Cas, when were you planning on going to the hospital?”  
Cas looked at his watch, “They haven't called yet, but in an hour or so, why?”

“I'm gonna order in pizza.”  
“We _just_ had chinese food.”

“Like I said, I'm gonna order in _pizza._ ”  
And before anyone could object, Gabe was already beep-beep-beeping away at his phone and stalking off into the backyard to call the closest pizza place.

“Want to stay and watch a movie with us?,” Cas asked no one in particular.

“Eh, sure?”

“Yeah, it sounds fun. Didn't have anything planned anyway.”

“Iron Man or Winter Soldier.”  
“Like that's even a question,” Dean said, “Winter Solider.” at the same time Crowley said, “Iron Man.”

“And you call yourself my boyfriend?,” Dean gasped, clutching at his own heart.

“Could say the same to you.”  
“How about we let Gabe decide?,” Cas offered, leading them to the living room.

“Seems fair. He loved the Winter Soldier.”

*

Hospitals made Dean quesy. It was something about all the noise, people talking in a variety of decibels, accompanied by the slightly-off sounds of machines and the never-ending rings of telephones. Then there was the smell, too. And all the _patients_. In retrospect, it was a lot of things Dean hated about hospitals.

Even as a kid, when he visited Sammy, he hated it. Bobby had to actually force him into the builiding to see Sam, lay in bed with his bandaged-up arm. A constant reminder of the night their house burned down and took the two people Dean had loved the most with it. It was his brother who bore the scars but it was Dean who really understood what they stood for. Thank God. Sammy put up with enough crap as it was, he didn't need to have that load, too.

So, yeah. Dean hated hospitals. But Cas and Gabe were drinking and Crowley got an unexpected call from one of his clients ("And that on a _bloody_ saturday!") so it was either being a jerk or driving Cas and Claire over to Grey Sloan, which was the direction Dean was headed anyway.

"You didn't have to come with," Cas had said to him, and a part of Dean thought he meant it. His voice was gruff and the top two buttons of his shirt were open. It would have looked disheveled if it weren't so damn sexy. "But I'm glad you did."

The two of them sat on a bench outside of the hospital. Claire wanted to go in alone, talk to Amy for a bit. Cas had gotten the call about her regaining consciousness halfway through the movie.

Dean couldn't even begin to imagine what was going inside that head of his. His eyes were closed, head tipped back slightly, as if looking up at the dark sky, light pollution hiding away all the stars. Eventually, he let out a shaky sigh, and crossed his arms over his chest tightly. "I don't know what you expect me to do, Dean."

"I don't know, either," Dean admitted, honestly. He had no clue. Though he knew, leaving wasn't an option, not again. Not if there's even a flicker of hope left.

"I still like you, I think. I just don't- know you?"

When Cas opened his eyes to glance at Dean, his gaze was met with an outstretched hand. "Hi, I'm Dean Winchester. My parents died in a house fire, I love pie and otherwise unhealthy foods that will eventually lead to a heart attack or two, and the closest thing I have to a daughter is my Baby," he said, gesturing with his thumb in the general direction of the parking lot.

Cas squinted, but he took Dean's warm hand into his cold one. "Hello, Dean. I'm sorry about your parents."

"It was a long time ago. Honestly, Bobby and Ellen were more parents for me than my- anyway. Now you know me a little bit better."

"And don't not-like you a little bit less."

Dean chuckled. "Jerk."

Cas squeezed his hand tighter. "Watch your mouth."

"But it's yours I'm more interested in."

A couple walked past them, not paying any attention. Somewhere in the distance, a car screeched and drove off. Wind made Cas shiver but he held on, sitting up more straightly. His mouth was hanging open slightly, a glint of light coming off his tongue. "Well," he said, leaning into Dean ever so slightly, "why don't you-"

"Why don't I?," Dean interrupted, lip quirking up. He had missed this. Even if they only had whatever this was once, for one night, he only now realised how much he had missed this.

Warm breath sneaked up on him as Cas got closer and closer, almost touching, almost-

"Dad!"

Dean pulled away as if someone had cracked him with a whip, sliding to the far end of the bench. Claire came running up to them, smiling. "Dad, mom has asked for you."

Cas looked at Dean, standing up. He was breathing hard, Dean could tell by the rise and fall of that damn tease of a naked chest.

"It's okay, go," Dean said, letting go of Castiel's hand as slowly as he could. Losing his palm, his fingers, fingertips, until he was watching Cas jog to catch up to Claire.

This time, _he_ sighed, taking up the position Cas was sitting in. Suddenly, the air around him felt that much colder.

"Tough night?"

He opened one eye. A relatively small, black woman was standing in front him. She was wearing a jacket with the hospital logo on it.

"You could say that. What about you, Doctor," He leaned forward to read her ID, "Bailey? Saved some lives?"

She blew into her palms and rubbed at the warmth of her own breath. "Lost some, too."

"I'm sorry, I-"

"That's the job," she said, sitting down next to him where Castiel sat only moments ago. "Are you waiting for a loved one?"

"Heh, something like that. I-" Dean scratched the back of his neck, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm waiting for a guy. We- I don't even know how to say it. We had something but then a stupid misunderstanding lead to stupid outcomes and now we're both in love with the same person and in some way with eachother, too. He's in there with his kid. Something with his wife's- ex-wife's," he corrected himself quickly "brain."

It felt good to get it off his chest. And to his surprise, there was none on Dr. Bailey's face. "The way I see it," she told him, looking up into his face with her pretty, dark eyes, "is that, whatever it is between the two of you, you have to move past it. Accept your mistakes, give him time, and move on. Time will show if it will be together or not. But if you love him and that other man, tell them. _Show_ them. Everyday I see people regret. Regret because they are scared, or angry, or too proud to say what they really feel, but when it's too late, then it's too late."

A beep came from deep inside her pocket. She took out a small pager and cursed under her breath. "Whatever it is you feel, tell them. It might all be over tomorrow, and you don't want to find yourself regretting you didn't."

And so she stalked off back into the hospital, leaving Dean alone again before he could say anything, a thank you even. Because she was right, he had to be more honest with himself and the people around him. He liked Cas. Loved even. Not as deeply as he did Crowley, but that's a job time will do. He needed to tell Castiel and he needed to do it now.

The nurse at the counter couldn't give him any information but with some luck and a lot of walking he found the room Amy stayed in; just in time to see Amy puke out blood onto her blue bedsheets. Claire screamed at the sight of it pooling out of her mother's mouth and Cas cradled her head in his shoulder, turning her away. His gaze met Dean's through the window, right before a nurse shut the blinds.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so, so much for all the nice comments, you are the best, really! And while I'm not off-hiatus I do feel obligated to finally update.   
> I have two/three chapters planned for this that I want to finish and update by the end of 2016. I really love the story, even though I've long stopped watching the show after starting this work. It's your nice responses and all the kudos that have kept me at it, and now that I see the finish line for them all, I'm gonna try my best to reach it. Hope y'all enjoy this chapter.


	10. The End(-ish)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After _loooong_ consideration I decided not to continue this story. I have other projects, and in the time between chapters I grew tired of it. I do love this whole concept and the story itself, I just didn't feel like investing time into something that doesn't neccessarily make me happy or piques my interest. I have other Destiel/Spn fics in the works. I grow with my writing, and I hope you understand my choice.
> 
> I do love you all for your nice comments and I hope you at least like the rough first draft of the final chapter that I decided to upload as a small consolation.
> 
> Thank you all for this fic.

 Cas jerked awake as his arm slipped away from under him. "Huh, I-"  
"Morning handsome," a raspy voice greeted him, just like the morning before, adn the one before that. Amy lay on her side, pale face halfway sunk into the pillow cushions. "I hoped you slept well?"

He stood up to stretch. Bone after bone popped as he took his first steps around the room, rubbing at a spot that seemed to have gotten the worst from the uncomfortable chair. "You didn't?"  
"She woke up to puke three times," Claire announced. She stomped into the room with two fresh cups of coffee in hand. That girl was an angel. Though Cas couldn't help but notice how much this all took from her – she skipped the last week of school and it didn't look like she'd be attenting classes this week either; she was a mess, partially because Cas failed to bring her a change of clothes and she refused to leave Amy's side. Generally, her rebellious teenager spark was gone. There's just that much energy one can waste on rebellion when their mother is dying right in front of her, Cas figured.

"Not-"

"No, Castiel, it wasn't blood. Just plain, old stomach acid."  
He was desperate for some good news. Castiel tried to stay hopeful for the three of them but he knew that chances of finding a plan were small, and the possibility of it actually working almost non-existant. Claire didn't look up at him but Cas knew she wanted to hope, too. Her small hands fidgetted with the lid of her coffee cup, almost spilling some on the bed.

Amy smiled at him, her hollow cheeks hiding her sacked eyes. She looked tired; dragged. Everything that's been happening to her over the past weeks – the forgetting things, acting up, being emotional and hypersexual, all of that was caused by one tumor in her head. One thing to make her act like anything she wasn't – not that Cas knew what that meant anymore. But seeing her on the bed, he knew that this was his wife. This right here was the woman he fell in love with, even if it wasn't the right kind of love.

"Well, what did Shepherd say? Does she have any news- a plan- there has to be something?"

"You can ask her yourself, dad. She's here."  
"I am," Dr. Shepherd said, smiling at all of them individually. Her black hair was done up in a pony tail, sharpening her features. Two interns stood right behind her, ghosting all of her work. One of them was the nice girl he got to know when Amy was first admitted, the other one Cas didn't recognize. He saw Claire hang out with her on her breaks, though.

"How are you feeling today, Amy?" Dr. Shepherd asked, her little flashlight passing over Amelia's eyes.

"For a bald, dying person? Pretty great."  
"Follow my finger please- We've got some good news."

"You do?" Claire and Cas both looked up at the same time. Dr. Edwards was the one to explain.

"Dr. Shepherd has found a way to enter the right section of your wife's brain, and with a new technique she is very certain that she'll be able to remove the tumor before it does any more damage."  
"But just as any surgery, this one isn't without risk, and like Dr. Edwards said, it's a new technique that hasn't been used before," the other doctor finished.

"So this means-?"  
"That it's very risky. But Dr.Shepherd is one of the best neuro-surgeons in the State."

Cas had heard as much.

"And I will do my best, I promise. Now, it's up to you Amy, but maybe-"  
"I'll do it."

"Don't you want to discuss this with your husband fir-"  
"No, I-" Amy and Cas shared a look – Castiel wasn't sure what it meant. Amy was acting way too impulsively, but he firgured he had no say in it the minute he walked out on her to live his life the way he wanted to. But Claire – she was hopeful. She didn't let it show too much but Cas knew deep down she not once believed that Amy wouldn't come out of this alive and well; and maybe a part of Castiel had thought the same.

Never before did the sound of a pen scribbling on a piece of paper sound so manacing. As Amy signed herself away to Dr. Amy Cas felt the lump in his throat tighten. His heart was hammering out of his chest. Everything inside his mind was spinning: Claire, blue-eyed Claire with tears in her eyes and hands balled up into a fist, sure no one would notice; all the preperations Cas had to finish, in case things don't go as planned – where would he live, how many clients could he still juggle whilst being there for his daughter. Amelia put in so much work every single day, Cas didn't even know about. It made him feel grateful for her, and his heart broke a little at how little he said this to her – how little he said he loved her and geniuenly meant it. They were a union, but throughout the time he was petitioning for a leave. He was so focused on himself for the past years, Cas forgot about the two people that _did_ matter to him. Not that that'd be the first time he abandoned someone. But not anymore.

Once the doctors left and it was only the Novak's for themselves, Amy started. "Cas, please. What's the worst-"  
"I might lose you," he whispered shily, because anything past that would make him cry like a child – though that comparison surely didn't apply in this instance. Castiel's kid was braver than him. Optimistic.

"Dad," Claire said, reaching a hand out for him to take. She was nuzzled up on Amy's shoulder. "She wants this. _I_ want this. I want my mom."

Castiel closed his eyes to bite back the tears. They burned, and Cas hurt. "Okay. Yes- we are doing the surgery."  
" _First,_ I eat some pudding."  
"Let me get some for you." Really, Cas just needed an out. Once again, all of his instincts screamed _run,_ and mostly, he was able to fight them. Still, there was only as much time he could spend in there without breaking down. He looked over his shoulder before he left. Claire was wrapped around Amy, curled up in a ball of clothes like when she was younger. If it weren't for the tubes and beeps, it was almost the same: Claire and Amy, together, laughing at something on Claire's phone. Without Castiel in the picture.

*

"Do, too!"

"Do not."  
"Do too."  
"I so do _not._ "

Crowley sighed. "Can we just agree you _both_ cheat and move on with the bloody game?"  
"I second the British Man's decision." Charlie threw the dice. It jumped over the playing field and almost knocked Dean's little pin off the table (totally on purpose). A six. Six fields up with the Iron Throne meant King's Landing was up for grabs. She didn't have the rest of the set – Dean had – but Charlie was a malicious beast, and apparently didn't care for loyalty when it came to board games. Almost all of her savings were gone now, but she clutched the card to her heart, and laughed an evil villain laugh. "Now King's Landing is _all_ mine." Her british accent was even worse.  
"I'm pretty sure that's offensive," Jo chimed in, reaching for the dice.  
"Hilarious, more like, don't you think British Man?"

Crowley looked up to meet her eye, "I- "Dean's look was deadly. "I think no matter what my answer is it might cost me sex for at least a week."  
"Don't you have a second hubby to keep you company if this one doesn't do?"  
"That's _not_ how polygamous relationships work, Jo." Dean sounded almost like an expert, and not someone who jumped into all this head first with no experience whatsoever, except for a few hundred read reddit entries of varied NSFW-spectrum. "In fact, it _could_ go against our rules."  
"We have rules?"  
"We _could_ have rules."  
Jo bought the last card to her set, and was getting ready to expand. "I'm pretty sure rules take the fun out of everything."

"And sometimes it is fun to break them," Charlie chimed in. The two girls shared a look that screams there is a story behind it, but it was a story for another time. They were so disgustingly cute, Dean wanted to puke rainbows. Everyone in this house at that moment was wonderfully gay, in both meanings of the term.

"Can we focus on the game?" Dean was losing and he wanted it to end.  
"Dean, it's a never-ending game, sometimes we needa focus on something else."  
"I know, I can feel your foot creep up my leg at rapid speed, Jo."

She quickly took it away, blushing. By the look on Charlie's face, she found the right one.  
"You know what, you're right, let's focus on something else. For example, the two of you can focus on getting a room."  
Charlie _pff_ t. She actually _pff_ t. "You just want to distract us from the fact that you are broke." She took a quick account of her money and cards, pondered. "You know what- why am I fighting this? Let's go, Jo."

"Wha-" Dean tried to protest, but both Charlie and Jo were already on the steps, taking them by the twos. "What about winning, Charlie?"

"Who cares, im gonna score either way."

"Unbelievable." Dean raised his eyebrows, looking at Crowley in disbelief. "Unbelievable."

The other man stood up from his place, walking around the table to sit on Dean's lap. The chair creaked slightly under both of their weight. "I don't know," crowley mused, face so close their noses were touching. "I think they have the right idea."

His hand was already working on Dean's belt, black leather sliding from the jeans loops to grant Crowley access.

Dean's gasp was swallowed by Crowley's lips, his tongue as keen to explore all of Dean as always. Warm hands gripped tightly around Dean's lenght, squeezing once to make Dean breathe in sharply. "Crowley I-"

He had to stop talking else he'd end up biting Crowley's lip. His sweet, sweet lip. No.

Dean pushed Crowley away, lightly. Both of them were breathing hard. Dean was very sure his fsce was flushed, too. And let's not start about his hair. "Cas is coming over. I forgot to say. Sorry."

They still hadn't figured out the logistics of their new triad and it was kinda awkward to talk with the one about dates one was going to have with the other. But that was the ground rule: honesty, transparency and trust.

Crowley smiled, honestly. "It's okay, I have a meeting in 5 minutes anyway."

"You wanted to take care of this," Dean gestured towards his crotch "in only five minutes? Give me some credit, Crowley."

The other man winked. "You know as much as I do I could make do with two."

"Oh shut up and at least kiss me goodbye."

So that's what Crowley did, right on time for Cas' arrival.

"Hot," Cas offered. Only a few weeks ago the exact same thing had happened, only then Cas stammered, not sure how to handle the situation. There was lots of.../exploring/ and testing of boundaries done between then abd now, though. That usually helped. "Getting ready for work?"

As soon as Cas was in range, Crowley grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into a kiss. That /was/ hot, Dean noticed, and so did lil' Dean, whose seeing this definitely did /not/ help its problem.

"You sure you gotta go?" Cas asked, taking Crowley's place on Dean's lap. He must've felt Dean's embarassing boner, because he shot him an amused look.

"As sad as it may be, buttercup. But daddy's got some loving for later tonight."

"Eugh," Dean groaned, fake-puking.

"Crowley, babe. Don't."

"Not something y'all are into? Duly noted then. Off i go. Don't do anything i wouldb't." And with that he walked out the door, followed by the sound of a car engine running and fading away in the distance.

"Hello to you too, handsome," Cas whispered, taking Dean's face into his hands. He looked at him for a moment, eyes wandering over every inch, every imperfection. Dean tried hard, focused on every bit and piece, but found nothing. Cas was perfect. Ethereal.

He grabbed the black-haired man by the neck, pulling him in for a kiss. It was a slow drag of lips over lips, hands slipping from shoulders to chests, to stomachs. Dean had found a hardening nipple through Cas' shirt and he pulled on it, waking one sweet sound from him. "How you doing?" Dean breathed when they pulled apart to take a breather. Their foreheads were pressed against eachother, Cas hands rested against Dean's sides for support. He was sat right across Dean's lap, his own bulge very well pressing against a flap of Dean's stomach.

"I'm fine," Cas whispered back, even though his eyes were telling a different story.

Dean had spent a lot of time studying Castiel, trying to make it up for lost time, and for all tje pain he has caused tje both of them. And if there was something they were too embarassed to talk about or ask, they always had Crowley. He was their middle-man. A diplomat in a post-war zone, trying to mend the holes. And mend he did. They all did.

Dean rubbed his nose over Cas', making him smile. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Dean could see Cas swallow hard, could feel it. "Cas I-"

"No, it's okay. It's Amy. There's a treatment."

Dean waited for the but.

"But it's risky. Chances of survival are very small."

"But Dr. Shepherd is one of the best neurosurgeons in the state. Hell, tje damn country." He's done some research. Already her brother was an extraordinary surgeon but that woman was on a whole other level. "She'll fix her."

"How can you be so hopeful? You don't even-"

"Because I love you, dumbass. And I know Amy enough to know that she needs to live. If not for you than for Claire."

Cas eyes were so wide, eyebrows up. "What'd I say?" Dean asked, scared. "What?"

"You love me?," Cas asked, incredulously.

"I-" Crap. Dean did say that, didn't he. Crap. He had fully meant it though. He was in love with Castiel. Even more so after every day they had spent together. With or without crowley. "Maybe i do," he mumbled.

"What? I- I don't think I've heard that?" Cas joked, pulling dean close, closer. He parted his lips, only a slight touch of tongue, running slow and languid touches down deans back. He shivered.

They were broken and now- now they weren't fixed, chances are they will never truly be fixed and that Crowley is the glue to hold their little trio close- but at thid point, this was the closest they were gonna get and Dean was okay with that. He let out a shaky breath and immediately felt the warmth of it on Castiel's lips. "I do love you, jerk."

"Always the charmer," Castiel mused. His blue eyes seemed to look through Dean, or no, rather indide of him. "And who knows? Maybe I love you too."

Dean was about to say something back, but the door to the bar swung open, and in came Crowley, his hair a tangled mess. His business phone was squeezed in his tight fist, close to breaking.

"What the-" Cas started but Crowley got to word first. "I can't bloody believe this wanker. He fucking fired me!"

"The one from your defamation suit?"

Crowley nodded, tossing his phone and suitcase onto the wooden table. The girls upstairs probably think the three of them are having wild sex right now. Not that Dean would be all to opposed to that idea.

"Hey," Dean said, rubbing Crowley's biceps in a poor attempt to calm him down. Thank god Castiel did the same. "The guy doesn't know what he's doing. If he wants to lose, let him."

"What he said," Cas chuckled, the way his body shakes making the boner in Dean's pants come back, yearning for some attention. "I know a way you could blow off some steam."  
Dean played a risky card there, he knew. Over the last couple of weeks their little thrupple seemed to have found its dynamic but voluntarily so or not it never seemed to end up in the bedroom. Of course it didn't, with everything that has been going on lately, but Dean would be a blatant liar if he'd say he had never thought about taking this whole thing to another level. He was...curious, to say the least.

Neither of the two other men said anything. Castiel didn't even move an inch, just looked at Dean with open eyes, and a curved lip. Crowley took turns looking at the both of them, sort of unsure how to handle the situation, and Dean was mentally preparing himself to defuse the situation, find a way to turn it around, into something innocent, but then there was Crowley's meaty palm at the back of his neck, pushing him forward in Castiel's direction and it all seemed to resolve itself, apparently.

Castiel's were literally pressed up against Dean's, in Crowley's effort to get the two of them together, to start off something that will certainly end up the way Dean wished it to: with the three of them as one heap in a bed, sweaty and starved and hungry for more.

For now he pushed those fantasies-turned-to-reality aside, though, and focused on Castiel's tongue in his mouth, licking over his own tongue in a swerve. His hips went back to work again, too, grinding down onto Dean's erection. It's trapped in its uncomfortable confines of jock and jeans and Dean really wished he had worn sweatpants today. "Can we go upstairs maybe?"

"Let's go," Crowley said, waving them up. "Gentlemen. I want to see your ass. And please take them by the two's."  
"Jerk."  
Dean nudged Crowley's shoulder but totally ended up doing what Crowley wanted to see because it was more convenient that way and the thought of Crowley watching him walk turned Dean on.

Once inside Dean's bedroom, the police man was immediately pushed onto the matress by both lawyers. It creaked on impact and bounced Dean up slightly. He might have fallen off of it with some more momentum, but his weight pushed him down into the cushions and covers, and he laid there waiting for his boyfriends next moves.

Both Castiel and Crowley shared a look before moving in on Dean from both sides. They crawled on top of the bed, two ravage beasts going for the kill.

Crowley got to Dean first this time, immediately latching on to his neck, sucking on it like a starved dog on a piece of meat. His tongue felt warm, and his teeth were sure enough to leave a bruise, but it was low enough not to worry Dean, and even if it weren't it felt good enough to forget.

Cas decided to follow suit, instead focusing on the nether regions. Skilled fingers worked Dean's belt from it's hoops and his zipper just glid open. It was his tongue that made Dean moan the first time. Or maybe it was Crowley's sliding into his lips, who knows. With the two of them he was bound to lose count soon enough. What mattered was, that whatever they were doing, if it was pushing Dean's cock down to the back of their throat or slamming their own past the breaking point of Dean's throat, it felt fucking fantastic.

Dean felt greedy. Cas was between his legs, still working on his length, trails of spit hanging from his lips and all. Crowley undressed the rest of Dean to nothing but his pair of boxers Cas was currently sucking him through. All Dean was able to do was push Cas down further with his one hand whilst he palmed Crowley through the restraints of his own clothes.

"I want both of you naked. Now," he gasped, eventually. He was fed up, and not full enough. That needed to change, pronto. Luckily, none of his partners had any problem following his commands. It kind of turned Dean on, seeing the two men get out of their clothes as quickly as possible, all because he told them to. Loving relationships with mutual apreciation and consent sure were an ego boost.

"Now one of you please fuck me now, or else-"  
He didn't get to finish. Cas shut him up this time, licking into his mouth. Hungry, and desperate, and vaguely tasting of Dean's dick. Crowley, on the other hand, re-positioned himself somewhere behind Dean, hovering just right above him, the tip of his cock pressed- "Oh- _oh..._ " Dean gasped into Castiel, head pressed into the man's shoulder. It was a while and Crowley was not the smallest of them all, and _God_ why'd it have to feel so goddamn amazing.

" _Fuck me,_ " Dean moaned again, just because he could.

"Trust me honey, we are trying."  
"Crowley just does not want to tear you up and leave the sloppy seconds to me."  
The image of Castiel sliding his cock into Crowley's sloppy seconds was not the worst, Dean had to admit. Just the thought of Cas' cock, Crowley's cum still leaking out of his ass- it made Dean twitch with lust.

"Can I fuck you?" Dean whispered into Castiel's lips when the other started kissing him again. "I- fucking hell Crowley-"  
"Sorry, I- uh- fuck, Dean, you are so tight."  
And Crowley was destroying him, slowly bucking his hips back and forth.

"I _want_ you to fuck me," Cas smiled and fuck if that was not the hottest thing he had ever done. No, Dean had to re-iterate because Castiel licked his own fingers only to work himself open for Dean.

"Fuck me, Dean."

Dean wanted to, really he did, but Crowley was tugging at his hair, slamming into him with no inhibitions. Dean's knees were caving under him, Crowley's weight pushing him further into the mattress. Dean felt full, and his cock needed to find some release and – Castiel managed to slide under them somehow; figured a way to push himself onto Dean's lenght before the man even got a chance to put on a condom. He was healthy. They didn't need it, Castiel knew as much. A part of Dean still felt the need to assure himself but _fuck_ Castiel's walls felt so warm around him, so tight-

Dean clenched around Crowley's length and made the other man moan. The british lawyer was going wild, thrusting forward, hard, making all three of them yell out, because it hurts, but it also feels fantastic, and Dean can feel beads of sweat run down the curve of his back-

It's all so much, it feels like every part of his skin is covered with someone else, every cell in touch with Crowley or Castiel. He's close, he can feel it. Dean's too full, and they are too good, and-

"Fuck, I'm coming, I think I'm-"

He shot his load, one spurt after the other, each one making Castiel moan that much louder. All three of them losing touch in their little orgasm bubble, Crowley's cum leaking out of Dean's ass onto the sheets, Castiel's chest covered with his own spunk, and leaking with Dean's too.

Moans gave way to heavy breaths, and the last time they heard the mattress creak was when Crowley let his weight slump next to Dean.

"That was-"  
"Something," Dean and Cas finished for him, both smiling a goofy smile.

Dean's sheets were drenched. The whole room reeked of sex, probably. And if Charlie and Joe weren't busy doing something sort of similar, the three of them had a _lot_ of embarrassment ahead of them.

"Is anyone up for round two?"  
"I think I need a powerbar first."  
"Make that two," Dean sighed, fatigue getting the better of him. "Or a whole pack."  
"That can be arranged."  
"You're so horny, Crowley."  
"Eh, I just know what's best."  
"That's why we're both here," Cas chuckeld. He turned his head to Dean, and Dean was looking at him all that time anyway. They shared a smile, a smile that said maybe it is about time to move on. A smile that promised it can be done.

*

"So, how did the operation go?"  
At this point Castiel really couldn't tell with those doctors. Whoever played Poker with them was a poor bastard. "I am afraid we weren't able to take the whole tumor out. There-"  
Castiel dropped into his seat. He dropped everything in that moment, really. He let his hopes shatter on that linoleum floor, bits and pieces spilling on the ground. Of course it was not all going to be alright, it never was.

"-she will stay under our care but it doesn't look good. The cancer spread to her lungs and to other parts of her brain, with a tumor this advanced-"  
"How much are we talking?" Castiel tried his best to stop his voice from shaking. Keeping up appearances for a daughter that is not even there right now. "How much time do I- do we still have?"

"A month. Maybe two. I'm really sorry, Mr. Novak, I-"  
"Yes. I know. Can I just-"  
"Of course. You can see her in an hour or so. Dr. Edwards will take you to her when she wakes up. And again-"  
"You're sorry, I know. Thank you."

In that moment, for the first time in years, for the first time since he'd gotten out of his fathers house, probably, he felt truly helpless.

*

"What do you mean she is not going to get better?"  
"Claire I'm sorry, she- Claire!"

*

"Where's Claire, can I see her?"

"She, uh- I will get her for you honey, just don't worry. Get some sleep."  
"Cas?"  
"Yes?"  
"I'm sorry."  
*

"What do you mean you can't find her anywhere?"

Dean had the phone on speaker (never text/talk and drive kids!) and was currently swerving onto the next lane, with a slightly horrified Gabe in the backseat to back him up.

"Have you checked your apartment?"  
"That was the first place I checked."  
"Were you at your house?"  
"Gabe, I'm there right now."  
"School?"  
"Already called."  
"A friend's house, maybe?"

There was silence on the other end of the line,before a somber Cas answered. "She doesn't have many of those as of late. Unless..."  
"Unless what?"  
"I think I know where she is."  
Gabe _tsk_ ed. "Will you enlighten us, then, bro?"  
"I think she might be at Anna's."  
" _The_ Anna?"  
*

Yassmin was at the reception when Castiel practically burst through the doors.

"Hey, I'm here to visit Anna."  
"Oh, hello Castiel. Yes, sure, your daughter's already inside-"  
"Thank God."  
"She looked pretty upset, is everything okay?"  
"Yes- no- thanks Yassmin, really."  
"If there's anything I can help you with just let me know."  
But Castiel was already walking down the hallway, moving towards Anna's room. It took all of his strength not to burst through that door as well. His hand on the handle, he took a deep breath. Slowly, he opened the door to find both Anna and Claire on Anna's bed, sitting across from eachother, smiling at something in Anna's lap. Claire was the only one who turned towards the opening door. Her smile dropped the minute she saw Castiel.

"Dad..."  
"It's okay. Hi Anna."  
Anna didn't answer. She was busy petting a small Golden Retriever. If Cas had to guess, he'd say it was a therapy dog.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I just-"  
Castiel simply took Claire into his arms. All the rage and worry evaporated with the first step into this room. Claire was here. She was safe. She was hurting, but so was he, and he figured they will be for a long time.

"Can we go home? I don't want to upset Aunt Anna."  
"It's okay, we're gonna go home."  
"I'm sorry daddy," Claire said again, letting out a sob this time. She didn't stop crying when they left the hospital. Her sobs were the only thing that rang through Castiel's car and the first sounds their empty house has heard all day. Claire was sobbing when Cas put her to bed, all those tears from weeks of hope finally pouring out of her. And when Castiel finally heard her sobs quiet, when there was nothing to hear even with his head pressed up to her door, he allowed himself to break down, too. It was not pretty. And he wanted someone to hold him, too, but part of him knew he had to brave through this alone.

 

**Epilogue:**

 

Dean did not know where to start when Sammy had come back from one of his jobs, it all seemed to blur into one big mess and a chunk of Dean felt guilty for not staying up-to-date with his younger brother's life. So much has happened over the past few months, yet Dean tried to be as concise as possible. It took him a six-pack to finish his _very_ abbreviated recollection of events. Sammy was on his third can, arms propped up on the kitchen counter and his head hanging heavy.

"Do you plan on going to the funeral?"  
Dean swallowed around the rim of his can. The taste of metal and a hint of beer prickled his lips. "I don't know. I want to be there for Castiel, we _all_ do but- I don't know."  
"Does he want you to be there?"

Sam's words were non-chalant. A monotone observation from an outsider's perspective. Dean had missed that. "I haven't asked him yet. We all are kind of walking on egg shells around him right now, for Claire's sake." Or that's what Dean and Crowley have been telling eachother. Fact was, Dean didn't know how to handle the situation. He loved Castiel sure, and he started to care for Claire, too. He knew how much it sucked to lose your parents when you are still young, but Claire wasn't ready to talk to anyone about it, and Dean respected it. Still, Dean was lost because there was no way for him to help, and Castiel couldn't tell him what to do, either. Recently, it was more Crowley and Dean than the three of them. "Should I ask him?"  
"Well, yeah. I don't think you should just show up, and I can only imagine how uncomfortable that could be. For everyone involved," Sam added hurriedly as if that'd save it. He had a point, though.

Dean texted a quick message into their group chat. Crowley needn't be consulted on it. They both felt the same way about it. Minutes later Dean's phone buzzed in response, but it was a private message from Crowley.

_'good thinking, winchester'_

_'you should thank the other winchester for it'_

_'still need to meet him'_

Right. With everything Dean forgot he skipped steps in his relationship with Crowley. Or with Castiel, for that matter. Meeting the family was a hurdle Dean casually ran past.

 


End file.
